


Behind the Scenes

by Tamalain



Series: The Women of Thedas [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:05:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6709792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamalain/pseuds/Tamalain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warden Commander Amell is the Hero of Ferelden and disappears. It is remarked upon by Leliana at the of DA:II and she is sought for during Inquisition. She sends a note that she is searching for a cure to the Calling. What was she doing? Her wanderings lead her to reflect on her decisions during the Blight and what might have been. She is especially interested in the rise of the Inquisition's general and wonders will she ever meet him again.<br/>Major spoilers!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is set in the same universe as my "To Catch A Wolf" story about Lavellan and Solas. It contains spoilers to everything from DA:O through Trespassers and yes that includes books, comics and the Wonders of Thedas. You've been warned.

Denerim had recovered nicely. Staring from the balcony at the Guerrin estate, Warden Commander Amell stood quietly. Thunder rumbled from a distance as the people in the market ran for cover. A guest of cool wind billowed across the city offering a nice reprieve from the hot summer air. Amell smiled and tilted her nose into the air enjoying the smell of rain. Absently, her armored fingers tapped on the stone ledge.  
She had been in Denerim for 3 days. Tonight was the last night of her stay and if he did not come tonight, she would have to make the decision on her own. Messages before she arrived and messages sent every day of her visit were all left unanswered. Arl Eamon had been gracious in allowing her to stay. Since killing the Arch Demon she tended to gather crowds where ever she went. She hate the fame and preferred to stay away from cities. Was it her due to her upbringing in the circle? Crowds always made her uneasy.  
Fat rain drops splatted on the ledge. She realized that her fingers were no longer tapping idly but in time with the song. Snatching her fingers away from the stone, she hissed between her teeth. It was always there. The single voice singing. They all were hearing it now.  
“Warden Commander?” A servant’s voice came from behind her. “Arl Eamon and Lady Isolde await you for dinner.”  
“Thank you, I’ll be right down.” She sighed and looked across the courtyard. This was a fool’s errand. She should never have come. 

 

It was late. Dinner had ended hours ago but Amell’s chamber fire continued to burn. Her armor was neatly placed on the mannequin next to her bed as she sat stretched out in a chair by the hearth. Curled up at her feet Lazarus, the Mubari, quietly whimpered in his sleep. She was re-reading the same reports over and over ensuring she had not missed any detail before she made her decision. Rubbing her eyes, she let the papers fall onto the table. Was she sure? It had been obvious at the beginning but now she was losing her nerve. She had to be sure. She needed…  
A loud commotion was approaching her door. Lazarus sprang to his feet next, ears pointed forward.  
“Bang…Bang…Bang!” came from the door. She was dressed in a simple sheath of linen that was modest but not protective. Instinctively she reached for her magic letting it fill her before saying “Come in.”  
The door swung open and Alistair, King of Ferelden, entered. Last time she had seen him, he wore Warden armor. Now, he wore a red and purple coat with fine leather breaches and tall, polished boots. His face was tense yet tired as if he had not slept well in days.  
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” He said as he quickly slammed the door in some poor servant’s face who was saying something about protocol.  
Lazarus padded his way over to Alistair and looked at him expectantly. Alistair walked over to the chair opposite Amell and crumpled into it. One hand rubbing his brow and the other somehow ended up on Lazarus’ head. He began absently scratching the hound’s ear who almost seemed to smile with delight.  
“Your majesty,” Amell started to bow.  
“Oh no you don’t! I have people doing that all day and they won’t stop. I won’t have you starting now.”  
Amell stopped mid bow, straightened and sat back down in her chair. The silence was thick. They had not seen each other since the celebration after the Battle of Denerim. He had assumed the throne and married Anora. Neither had he wanted but it was the best for the kingdom and the people. His people. The wound that hurt him the most was that she had spared his mortal enemy. She bested Loghain in battle at the lands meet. His life was her’s but Riodin's cry stayed her hand. Riodin was a Warden and understood the loss both Alistair and Amell felt. He had been tortured and held captive by Loghain’s ally, Arl Howe. Yet, despite those injuries, Riodin asked that Loghain’s life be spared. They needed as many Grey Wardens as possible before a battle with an Arch Demon. She had had no idea why but they needed to stop the Blight. If Loghain’s survival helped secure that, why would she throw him away out of vengeance? Alistair did not see it that way. She had betrayed him. His friend, comrade and lover had chosen to spare the man he hated most in the world. They had not communicated since that day.  
That day was almost 10 years ago. Much had happened between now and then. Now the mage and templar war was raging across the land, the country was still recovering from the Blight and then there was the voice…  
“I almost didn’t come, you know,” Alistair whispered looking into the fire. “After Loghain….” He trailed off. He leaned back into the chair and looked at her for a long moment. Whispering, he continued,“But, I couldn’t … why are you?” He seemed torn. Alistair had always been ruled heavily by his emotions and now he seemed to be warring with himself. Part of him was still angry with her and another seemed honestly glad to see her.  
“The song.”  
He suddenly seemed more haggard. “It’s worse than the damned dreams,” he groaned as he rubbed his eyes with his hands. “It came out of nowhere. I can’t sleep or think, not that I was very good at either anyways.” He gave her a hint of a smile.  
“Alistair, did the older Wardens you trained with before Ostigar ever discuss the calling with you?” He looked uncomfortable.  
“A little. They just said it was a sort of buzzing thing. Like bees or lots of people talking at once but you can’t catch what they’re saying. It gets louder and louder until you feel like you’re going out of your mind. Why?”  
“Are you going through your Calling?”  
Now he looked startled. “No, I’ve not been a Warden long enough. Besides, it’s only one voice. I assumed it had something to do with your Architect.”  
Amell slammed her hand on the table while yelling “Ah, ha!” It was the confirmation she needed. He had voiced exactly what she had felt as well. It was one voice not a cacophony of darkspawn voices but a single voice…like the Arch Demon.  
“Alistair,” Amell started excitedly “the Orlaisean Wardens never heard the Arch Demon.”  
His face remained blank.  
“The Blight never gathered enough force to spread far enough to affect all Wardens. They never heard its song. The voice…the song…all Wardens are hearing it now. We all began hearing it at once.”  
“That sounds like a Blight” he sounded worried.  
“But have you had any dreams about Arch Demons or a gathering horde?”  
“No”  
“Nor has anyone else. Everyone thinks it’s their Calling but it is too similar to the way the Arch Demon sounded that it has to be a singular entity. I don’t think it’s an Arch Demon but it is something or someone.”  
Alistair’s face began to show the realization. “But since none of the others survived no one has anything to compare it to.”  
“Except for us.”  
“What about your Loghain?” he sneered but Amell shook her head.  
“He wasn’t a Warden long enough to hear it. Besides…..Loghain’s gone missing.”  
Alistair jumped to his feet. “Missing?! What do you mean missing? That man is a traitor. You should’ve…”  
Amell raised her hands to calm him. “I think something happened to him. Something … bad.”  
“Good.”  
“Alistair!” He slumped back in his chair and looked pouty at her reproach. “Wardens have been going missing.”  
“Missing? What do you mean missing?”  
“Shortly after the song started, I received a message from Commander Clarel of Orlais demanding that I gather the Wardens of Ferelden and meet her at Adamant. She reported that she had a way to deal with the Calling.  
“I sent a messenger stating my concerns about the song but she never returned. Shortly after, I received a very cryptic message from Loghain. It stated ‘Stay away. Cannot trust the higher ranks. The Tevinter mage is up to something.’”  
“Adamant?” Alistair whispered in confusion. “It’s been vacant for centuries? Why would Tevinter be involved?”  
“All very good questions,” Amell sighed. “I recently received a notice from one of Clarel’s mages stating Loghain is wanted for murder and treason to the Wardens.”  
Alistair gave disgusted snort followed by an “I told you so” look. However, Amell did not think it was that simple. Over the years, she began understanding Loghain’s motives. On retrospect, King Cailan’s army had stood a good chance of being decimated even if Loghain had not betrayed them. Even Duncan had asked Callen for patience to wait for extra forces. The horde had been bigger than he had expected and he had been young and foolish. Loghain may have been right about Ostigar but that is where he had stopped seeing the forest and began focusing on the trees. Regardless what had happened, Loghain’s seizure of the throne was out of a desire to protect not out of a lust for power. That made a difference to Amell. He had also served very loyally for the past 10 years and given his message…. There was more to the story.  
Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. “Alistair, how do you know about the Architect?”  
He smiled and leaned back in his chair with a very proud smirk on his face. “I received a letter from the Chamberlain of the Grey in Weisshaupt. He was very angry about your decision to let the Architect live and wanted me to send some of my men to the Vigil as inside informants.”  
She was shocked. She knew Weisshaupt had been angry but not enough to spy on her. The surprise clearly registered on her face because Alistair started chuckling.  
“I told them ‘no’ by the way. Weisshaupt had tried to bribe the Vigil’s nights and the other wardens but found no takers. That told me enough. See, I do more things than just my hair.”


	2. The Vigil

Numbness set in when Amell reached the Vigil. She road to the stables and stiffly dismounted her black mare. A young stable boy came up to take her horse as Lazarus padded his way up to her. He panted happily by her side. He enjoyed running by her horse on long rides.   
Stretching her back, she ascended the steps into the keep. It was quiet inside but she was not surprised given the late hour. She strode across the hall and took the back stairs up to her chambers. As she opened the doors, she saw two serving girls setting up a bath. The fire in the room roared and Mistress Woolsey busied herself by setting up a plate of food on her desk.   
“Commander Amell, I am glad you returned safely. You’ve been gone for sometime. We did not expect you back. I trust your business researching the Calling was concluded satisfactorily.”   
Something about her tone made Amell pause. She slowly sat down on a bench at the foot of her bed and casually began taking off her boots. Something had happened during her absence.   
“It was, Mistress, thank you. I see you have anticipated my arrival.”  
“One of the silver knights saw you from his look out. He sent word that you were approaching.”  
Amell allowed a small smile to herself. The wardens and silver nights under her command refused to betray her to Weisshaupt. It meant she had done something right. She had been gone almost a year searching Warden ruins looking for lost information on the Calling. However, the false Calling had turned her to Denerim.   
A small tap on the door caused both women to turn. Seneschal Garevel cleared his throat on the other side.   
“It’s safe, Garevel. I’ve not started bathing yet.” Amell called  
The armored Seneschal gingerly opened the door as if he wasn’t quite sure he believed her. Did he sleep in that metal? The two serving girls went to the door to make their exit. When the door opened fully he smiled at her. It was a strained smile.   
“Commander, I trust your trip went well.”   
“It did.” Pleasantries complete.   
“I’m glad to hear it.” He continued. He paced a few steps towards Mistress Woolsey while distractedly looking at Lazarus demolishing his dinner that had been laid down for him. When he reached her, he turned around and stood straight with hands clasped behind his back. It meant this was clearly a business call.   
“We’ve received another summons for Commander Clarel to join her at Adamant. Her forces have reached the fortress about a week ago and began clearing out the … mess.”  
Boots sitting on the floor, Amell sat up cocking her head. Odd. Her reports had always said that Adamant had been turned into a small community. Villagers and even a mayor living in the middle of the desert.   
“Mess?” she answered questioningly raising an eyebrow. Garevel just shook his head.   
“A demon took control of a Tranquil there re…”

“What?!” Amell was on her feet. That was impossible. The whole point of the Rite of Tranquility was to prevent this from happening to weaker mages.   
“It appears” Mistress Woolsey jumped in, “That the Divine had commissioned him to look for ways to reverse the Rite. Apparently he found it. “   
Amell’s mouth was hanging open. After being in the Wardens for almost 9 years, nothing surprised her much. This was earth shattering. It could, would rock … Amell closed her mouth and eyed her comrades.   
“And how are the mages and Templars taking this?” Things had been tense to say the least since Anders decided to blow himself up. She still secretly held on to pangs of guilt for it. He would have been back in the Tower had she not conscripted him. He escaped her watch. She did bear some responsibility.   
“Not well, it seems.” Varel continued. “The mages under Grand Enchanter Fiona had a conclave at the White Spire. Your Enchanter Wynne was involved as well. The conclave was supposed to be a frank discussion on how to handle the new possibility of reversing tranquility. However, Fiona decided to call a vote to dissolve the circles instead.”  
Amell collapsed back on the bench and rubbed her eyes. Fiona reminded her of Anders. All about the cause but never looked down the road to see how one’s action would play out. The White Spire also had a reputation.   
“How did they vote?”  
“They didn’t” Woolsey answered “The Templars attacked under Seeker Lambert. Even those who tried to surrender where cut down.”  
A sick feeling entered her stomach. She had left the tower right after she had finished her Harrowing but part of her still felt the Circle of Magi and the tower were home. She had always understood the Templars’ role though she did not always like it or agree with its methods. Her relationship with her Templar, Cullen, had been good. Even Greagoir had been reasonable though rough. In all her days she never thought that the Templars would do this.   
“Did any survive?”

“Yes.” Garevel added. “The mages escaped the Spire and congregated at Andoral’s Reach. Our informants report the vote for dissolution of the circle should be any day now. On an added note, Seeker Lambert is convening the Knight Commanders for an unknown purpose at the Spire. The vote and the Templar meeting have likely already occurred as it takes several weeks to travel from Orlais. We received this information two days ago.”   
Folding her hands, Amell pressed them into her lips to prevent her from saying things she did not mean. The world was breaking after it seemed the effects of the Blight were just starting to fade.   
“There is one more piece of news.” Garevel said gently has Amell raised her eyes to his. “Wynne did not survive the conclave.”  
He paused to let it sink in. She felt numb. Wynne had been a sort of mentor to her during the Blight. A symbol of what a mage should be. Always a remarkable woman, the world was a darker place for her loss.   
“Ogrhen is not taking it well.” He added. Amell snorted. The two had had a strange flirtatious relationship. Alistair wouldn’t be much better as he saw her as a mother figure. The conversations this group had during the Blight had been amusing. All the while, Zevran and Leliana had egged everyone on while Shale and Morrigan made disparaging remarks. Sten just ignored the whole thing.  
As Amell closed her eyes shaking her head, Mistress Woolsey broke the silence.   
“This could have consequences for the Wardens and the Vigil.” Woolsey added matter of factly. “During times of upheaval, people frequently turn to the Wardens as refuge. Since your defeat of the Arch demon the Wardens in Ferelden are no longer looked upon as a group of former convicts. If the mages vote to break the circles, there will likely be many that may come to us for shelter.”   
She had a point. The Wardens took most people including mages. Young mages having lived their whole lives in the shelter of the circle would be overwhelmed in a chaotic war torn world. If they were not in agreement to fighting for their freedom, where would they go? Most did not know where their homes were, and if they did they frequently were not welcomed back.   
Wynne was dead. Templars turning on mages. The circle being dissolved or likely dissolved. Amell stood up and paced across the room and slammed an armored and against the wall. The clang made Lazarus jump. And then there was that stupid song! She could hear it mingling with the crackling of the fire. What in Maker’s name was happening?   
“Does Weisshaupt have a stance?” she asked. Acid seeping into her voice.   
“No, Commander. They are giving no direction currently.” Mistress Woolsey answered.   
“Of course they aren’t.” Amell muttered before turning back to her small audience. “We will be glad to take in anyone interested in joining but we will not conduct the Joining until things settle down. This is not the time to add new recruits when we don’t know what we are dealing with.” She pointed to her head.   
“I will begin making arrangements for new recruits.” Mistress Woolsey continued. “We are full almost with the current Wardens in regards to sleeping chambers. Though, I trust there will be more room when you go to Adamant.”  
Garevel gave Woolsey a side long look before looking back at Amell. The idea that this was not the Calling had not been shared with Mistress Woolsey. Though she had access to plenty of knowledge, there were somethings she did not need to know.   
“Why would we go to Adamant when they have not responded to any of my messengers? None of them have even returned.” Amell kept her voice calm and level.  
“Given some of the infighting between the Duke and the Empress it is not surprising that they may have gone missing.”   
She had learned about the civil war in Orlais while in Denerim. Arl Emond and Ban Teagan had taken a small amount of delight to see Orlais’ bad luck.   
“Besides,” Woolsey went on, “Clarel has been in the Wardens longer and held her command before you. In times of emergency, the most senior Wardens take command. The wide spread Calling would count as an emergency.”   
“And no word from Weisshaupt about this emergency?  
“No, Commander.”  
Amell slowly turned around and faced the two standing quietly. She gave them both a sad smile.  
“I will think upon it, Mistress Woolsey. Thank you all for these updates but I think I should like some privacy.”   
Both bowed their way out as the Hero dropped into her chair. Pulling off her gauntlets, she threw them onto the bed from where she sat. She thought briefly about needing to wash her hands but she was too tired to care. Her dinner consisted of tea and stew with a few slices of bread. Staring into her soup, she thought about Wynne and the Circle and the lost mages.   
She wasn’t sure how long she had been staring off when a gentle tap came from her door.   
“Enter.”  
The door creaked open and Oghren’s sad looking face peered around the door. Even his moustache seemed to droop.   
“Err, Commander,” he looked down. “I heard ‘bout Wynne. Thought you might want company.”   
She smiled at him. “Of course Oghren. I’d love some.” He seemed to shuffle in and climbed into the chair opposite her. He had somehow managed it without spilling a drop of beer. She had not even noticed he was carrying a full mug. He sat looking at his beer.   
“Damn shame, commander. Damn shame.” He said more to himself than to Amell.   
“It is, Oghren. She will be missed.” They both sat quietly and stared into the fire. 

The next several days were bustling with activity. Amell had formally announced that they were marching for Adamant. Word had reached the Vigil that both the Mages and the Templars had voted for independence. Concerns for bandits and skirmishes led to greater precautions for their journey. Mistress Woolsey was also busing herself with creating rooms for new recruits.   
She had spent time speaking with Seneschal Garevel about training the Warden recruits and maintaining the defenses. She also made Bethany Hawke the interim Warden Commander during her absence and charged her with training the new mages.   
Standing in her quarters, Amell went through the forms of the Arcane warrior. It was almost meditative but the damned song in the back of head kept breaking her peace of mind. A slight knock came as a dark haired mage entered. Bethany stood to the side waiting for her to finish.   
“Yes, Bethany?” Amell asked a minute later.   
“Preparations are near complete and you should be ready to leave in the next day or so.”  
“Thank you.” Amell walked over to her table and indicated for Bethany to join her. The two cousins had had a strained relationship though Amell did trust Bethany. She was ethical and with the coming war, ethics was needed now more than ever.   
“I’m not going to Adamant.” Amell just came out with it. There was no need for pleasantries between the two.   
“I’m not surprised. You rarely do things impulsively and this agreement to go to Adamant was certainly out of the blue.” She cocked a dark eye brow at her. “You have other thoughts? “  
“It is best you don’t know.” Amell gave her a sad smile. “I do want you to know that I believe Clarel is up to something and I also believe this is not the Calling.”   
“Well, that’s a relief.” Bethan tried to sound nonchalant but she seemed to visibly relax as if a weight had lifted from her.   
“Here.” Amell handed her a small box. It was wooden and nondescript looking. Inside was a small crystal lying in sawdust. “It’s a sending crystal. It allows you to speak through it to another crystal.” Amell casually pulled out its twin from a pouch at her waist.   
“I’ve never heard of anything like it.” Bethany began examining the crystal with interest. “Where did you get it?”  
“A gift from one of the Bannorns. I understand they had a relation who had magic and ran to Tevinter. She sent a sending crystal back to her brother to stay in communication. When she died, she had hers sent back to him as a keep sake. It was several generations ago.”   
“I doubt they wanted to keep a reminder they had a mage in the family.” Bethany sounded a bit bitter.   
“Possibly, but useful none the less.”   
“You really won’t tell me where you are taking the wardens.”   
“I think it’s safer this way.”   
Bethany looked into the empty fireplace. “Do you trust anyone?”  
“If I didn’t trust you, Bethany, I wouldn’t give you that crystal and I wouldn’t have put you in charge of the Vigil. I don’t want you put in harm because of me.”  
Bethany turned back and gave her a small smile. It seemed genuine and Amell couldn’t help but smile back. 

Bethany had been correct. Two days later, Amell and the wardens were on horseback before dawn. Many of the Vigil’s knights watched her go with her two lines of wardens streaming behind her. Things went well and then by midday she turned them north. She could sense the surprise in her soldiers but no one said anything. When she continued northward after the first day, she heard a few whispers here and there, but no one questioned her orders.   
As the sun set on the second day, the party entered a stone labyrinth. Amell gave the order to light torches. She thought she could hear Oghren chuckling to himself. He knew where they were going now. Expertly, she led her people through the passages without hesitation. Well after moon rise, they came out the other side. A cold wind created them and it became apparent they were in the mountains.   
Before them a large fortress loomed overhead with high bridge leading to a far tower. All around were houses and stables and even a forge. It was a village not just a fortress. Despite the late hour, stable hands came darting out to help the wardens dismount and take their charges. Bright torches lined the stone walls and two large braziers stood on either side of the large stair case. Coming down to greet them were two men. One dressed as a warden in medium leather armor and shoulder length black hair. The other dressed in heavy armor and had silver hair followed behind.   
“Comestible Howe and Seneschal Varel,” Amell gave a large but tired smile, “How nice to see you both again. I see you’ve made preparations.”  
“We did.” Howe answered as he scanned her troops. “Though your men seem a bit confused.”   
Amell turned and saw several of the wardens casting sideways glances at the impressive buildings. It has been built by wardens for the wardens. It was meant to be a city and fortress to train troops so it met Amell’s needs. Plus, it was largely unknown even to most wardens.   
“Wardens” Amell yelled as her troops turned snapping to attention. “Welcome to Soldier’s Peak.” 

******  
Bethany sat quietly in the dining hall. Most of the inhabitants were in bed and she enjoyed the quiet. Reading a book by firelight she saw someone approach her. Thinking it was Mistress Woolsey coming to give some report, she casually looked up.   
The red headed woman quickly put a hand over Bethany’s mouth and grabbed her shoulder preventing Bethany from jumping up and shouting.  
“Forgive me, Warden Bethany. I did not mean to frighten you. I trust we can speak quietly. You know who I am, yes?”  
Bethany nodded as the other woman released her. “You’re Sister Nightengale. You work for the Divine. You met my brother, Hawke.”   
The Nightengale smiled and sat down opposite the mage. “That’s right. I’m looking for an old friend, Warden Commander Amell. Where might I find her?”  
“Amell? She’s left with the rest of the Wardens.”  
“But not you?”  
“No”  
“Where did she go and why?” The red head stared hard at her.   
“I don’t know.” She seemed to feel the other woman’s eyes boring into weighing if she was telling the truth.   
“It is important that I speak with her. Do you know when she will return?”  
“No, I’m sorry.”   
“Do you know where your brother might be?”  
“Last I heard, he was still in Kirkwall. He spends most of his time with Varric or Isabella.”   
“Varric … Tethras?”  
“Yes.”  
“Thank you, Bethany.”   
The Nightengale gracefully stood up and stalked out of the room. Suddenly, Bethany was very happy that Amell had not told her where she was going.


	3. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amell begins her journey but nostalgia pulls her back to the Tower. It is not quite the way she remembered it.

Amell sat in the office that once belonged to Sophia Dryden. She stared at the empty seat behind the desk. The last time she was in this office the decaying corpse of the prior Warden Commander of Ferelden tried to bargain with her. Nathaniel offered her his office but she couldn’t get those dead eyes out of her mind. Even sitting here now with the new furnishings she felt uneasy.  
Nathaniel entered into the room carrying two cups of tea. He offered her one and then sat down behind the desk. He waited as Amell closed her eyes and inhaled the rich aroma. He smiled in spite of himself. Amell was anything but high maintenance but she appreciated certain things such as a fine black tea from Antiva. Nathaniel always ensured there was a fresh supply at the Peak. It was nice to see she appreciated the effort.  
She took a long sip, and the tension seemed to seep out of her body. Sighing, she leaned back in her seat with a small content smile towards the cup. Her large eyes looked up at him.  
“How is the Peak, Constable?”  
He kept a calm face as he went through the pleasantries. “It’s well stocked and strongly fortified, Commander. Ready for a prolonged stay by a large force of wardens.”  
Amell looked around the room. “As it was meant to. Did you know that the Peak was built to be a city not just a fortification?” She said to herself more than Howe.  
“Amell,” he said softly, “I’d like a little more information about why you and all the wardens of the Vigil are here.”  
After almost nine years serving with her, Howe knew how to read the Commander. He was one of the few who saw behind the legend and saw the person.  
“Alistair confirmed my thoughts about the song. This isn’t the Calling. This something else.”  
Howe furrowed his brow and looked off for a few minutes. “What could possibly mimic the Calling? An Archdemon?”  
“I…don’t think so.” She said slowly.  
“Is the great Amell unsure?” Howe teased gently giving her a soft smile. She gave raised an eye brow at him while smirking.  
“Happens more often than one would think.” This caused him to chuckle. “In all honestly, I have no idea what else could do this. An Archdemon isn’t this cunning. I do remember that Bethany spoke about a darkspawn that her brother accidently released from an ancient warden prison.”  
“Weisshaupt would know.”  
Amell snorted and rolled her eyes. “Weisshaupt is less than useless, but I don’t think I can avoid a trip there. This whole ordeal also highlights the need to prevent the Calling. I’ve been searching and thus far I’ve been banging my head against a dead end.”  
“Do you think Ferelden is in danger?”  
“I’m worried we could endanger Ferelden.” This caught Howe off guard.  
“Us?!”  
Amell nodded slowly taking another sip of her tea. “From what Bethany told me, this particular darkspawn seemed to control wardens. Hawke managed to kill it but there could be others. If this isn’t the Calling or a Blight, we need to take precautions.”  
Amell spent the next hour discussing what she knew about the Spire, Adamant and the Rite of Tranquility, Clarel and Weisshaupt’s attempt to infiltrate her men. Howe took it all in. He had proven to be an excellent confident and adviser over the years. It was why she had turned the Peak over to him.  
“So Woolsey thinks a Ferelden would bow to an Orlesian.” He smiled to himself draining the last of his tea. “Why would the Hero of the Fifth Blight submit to Clarel? She’s competent but has not accomplished half of what you have.”  
“I think you may be biased. However, you forget, she follows Weisshaupt’s recommendation to the letter. Between surviving the Archdemon, involving myself in Ferelden politics, and siding with the Architect, I’m not exactly popular.”  
“When you don’t arrive at Adamant, won’t Woolsey tell Clarel you’re here?”  
Amell stared into her empty cup. “No one at the Vigil knows we’re here.”  
“Surely they will figure it out.”  
“I may have neglected to report the Peak’s survival to Weisshaupt.” She looked up and gave a small impish smile. “As far as Weisshaupt knows, this is still a demon infested ruin abandoned since Sophia tried to take the throne.” 

 

After saying good night to Nathaniel, Amell retired to her room but could not relax. Her mind raced and there were too many memories at the Peak. She peeled off her armor and cleaned it. She took a bath and tried to sleep. It had to be around 3-4 am in the morning but she was still wide awake. She put on a thick robe and started walking the empty halls. Her men were exhausted after their ride and had settled down shortly after their arrival.  
Somehow she found herself walking cross the bridge to Avernus’ tower. The ancient mage had been allowed to continue his experiments using ethical constraints. He sent her notes on occasion while Nathaniel kept a watchful eye over his work.  
The laboratory always was the same no matter when she visited. To her surprise the warden was mixing potions over a small burner. He didn’t look up as she approached and took a seat on the other side of the table.  
“A pleasure as always Commander. Though I am just a very early riser, you appear to have not yet gone to bed. What brings you to me?”  
“Nathaniel tells me you are hearing the false Calling as well.”  
“A ‘false’ Calling? Then we are in agreement. I too heard the song of the Archdemon and the similarities are uncanny. Too sudden to be the Calling with a different voice. I’ve heard both.”  
“Both?” Amell was stunned. “What do you mean, you’ve heard both?”  
Avernus chuckled without looking away from his ingredients. “I’ve postponed the inevitable, Commander. Whenever I heard the beginnings of that sweet song I redoubled my efforts. I knew I was successful by how well I pushed it from my mind.”  
“Have you ever heard of a darkspawn who could control wardens?”  
“A darkspawn that controls wardens? No, though that would be an interesting twist.”  
Amell sighed. A trip to Weisshaupt was now absolutely necessary.  
“Have you heard of such a creature, Commander?”  
“Yes, unfortunately.”  
Avernus finally stopped his workings and looked thoughtful for a minute. “In that case, it would seem we need to sever our link to the Blight without losing our abilities. Is that why you’ve created what you have here, Commander? I doubt you’ve informed your superiors.” He gave her a wicked smile.  
“Bethany told me this story when she came to the wardens years ago. I had been interested in circumventing the Calling but this illustrates why we need to master the taint and prevent it from taking us over. If we can become tools of the Blight…” Amell broke off and stared out the window.  
“You’ve created a city of science and research at the Peak: Warden and civilian, mage and mundane, potion masters and masters of the arcane. Everyone is very happy with the arrangement. You pay us all well and we all stay closeted away from the rest of the world. All under the watchful eye of your Constible and Senschal. They must very loyal…”  
“And ethical, Avernus. Though I agree we must explore all options into stopping the Blight, we must not lose our humanity.” She had an edge of warning to her voice. Avernus ignored it.  
“So you’ve brought your merry band of wardens here just encase.” He nodded to himself. “Not a bad idea, Commander. I doubt any of them could escape back through the tunnels even if they wanted to leave. The Peak is finally fulfilling its rightful purpose.”  
“I’m going to Weisshaupt as soon as I have gathered my supplies and my horse has rested enough for the journey. Are there any resources from the library you would like me to look into?”  
“I’ll think on it, Commander. I presume you’ll want me to have collected the findings from the different teams to present to you upon your return.”  
She chuckled. “Thank you, Avernus. You anticipated my request.” She got up to leave and started walking back towards the door.  
“You know, Commander, the more I get to know you the more you remind of Sophia.” He called after her. She stopped and turned back.  
“Is that a compliment or an insult, Avernus?”  
“A compliment, Commander. She was one of the most charismatic and gifted leaders I’ve known. You, however, are a bit more longsighted than she. A good thing I think.”  
With that he threw himself back into his work and did not notice when Amell left. 

 

The Anderfels had been conquered by both Tevinter and Orlais sitting in the wastes between the two countries. Given that she would have only one horse and would likely be slowed due to different wars, it would take a month at least to reach the edge of the Anderfels. Once she reached those barren lands, all bets were off. Stalked constantly by darkspawn and ravaged by savage weather, the Anderfels were one of the most inhospitable places in Thedas. Amell would rather travel to the Western Approach than the Anderfels.  
It took a week before Amell was ready to go. She took her heavy armor with the warden Griffens emblazoned on the chest and her winged helmet along with several changes of the blue and grey lighter armor as well. She felt it was important to differentiate herself as a warden to limit getting mistaken for someone’s enemy. She looked at her one handed sword with runes embedded in the hilt. It was never a good time to be a mage and she didn’t trust some of the templers not to attack her despite the griffons on her chest. She sighed as she shethed her sword and tied it to her hip. Her elven training allowed her to appear as a warrior. Secretly, she did not miss having to carry a staff. Magic seemed so much more … natural somehow.  
After discussing final arrangements with Varel and Howe, she mounted her horse. A large pack horse heavily ladened with supplies had its lead attached to Amell’s saddle. With a quick whistle, Lazarus scampered towards her and they headed out through the stony labyrinth. There was no reason to push hard but she did not want to dawdle. Riding from sun up to sun down at a steady pace she figured she could be to the Orlesian border in about a week. However, on her third day on the North Road towards the west she began to slow her pace. The route led near the docks on Lake Cahlenhad that one could take to the Tower of Ferelden. She had not returned to the Tower since she had been searching for Morrigan. Perhaps…

Not realizing she had made a decision she picked up the pace. When the sun started to hit the edge of the western horizon, Amell found herself approaching the Spoiled Princess at the edge of the lake. Or at least what had been the Spoiled Princess. Dismounting, Amell slowly led her horses to the tavern but the smashed windows and twisted door indicated it had been vacated. Nodding to Lazarus, the mabari carefully entered the building. After a few minutes he came back out with a nonchalant “woof.”  
“Empty? Well, this is a surprise.” Lazerus seemed to shrug his shoulder and opened his mouth expectantly. Handing the dog the reins of the horses, Amell entered into the dark inn. Everything was a mess. Tables were upended and broken bottles lay everywhere. She did a quick sweep of the establishment but no bodies or injured people could be found. It appeared that the owner had packed quite quickly. But signs of a struggle were evident in most rooms. It was as if it had been involved in a siege. Looking out one of the windows, she noted a small stable. She exited the building and brought the horses and Lazerus into the empty structure. It took about half an hour to unsaddle and rub down both horses.  
She turned to Lazerus. “Let them graze but when the sun goes down herd them into the stable. Keep watch over them and our things.” Lazerus gave a happy yip excited to be given a task as Amell headed to the docks.  
No guards or fisherman or …anyone. Several boats were ashore. Choosing the sturdiest, Amell launched it into the lake and hopped in and rowed herself across the water to the Tower. Upon arrival, she tied the boat at the Tower docks and disembarked. No one came out to greet her. It was as dead as the other shore.  
As she approached the two large wooden doors to the entrance, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Even after all these years, the Tower still gave off a sense of foreboding just as it had when she first arrived as a child. She shook off the memory and pushed the doors opening. The foyer was also empty. Torches burned but no one approached. Usually, several Templars would be in this room and the murmurs from the novice quarters should be very evident from here. Silence. She walked towards the second set of doors and entered the Tower proper. As she headed towards the mages’ quarters she passed by the doors that led to the basement. Both had been torn off their hinges. She wondered…  
As she went down the stairs she saw dried blood all over the steps. CRUNCH! Kneeling down she saw what she had stepped on. Glass. A nearby torch reflected light over dozens of broke phylactery vials as if someone had thrown them like flowers before a bride and groom. The pit of her stomach dropped. What had happened here? The doors to the phylactery room were in the same state as the doors above. The room was similar to the hallway. Dozens of broken vials and dried blood. The far wall had clearly been repaired from when she and Jowen had broken in so long ago. One change that had taken place, the statue that had been in the storage room was now in here.  
“Greetings, Amell of the Grey.” The haunting voice emitted from the stone throat.  
“Greetings, Madam Zinovia.” Amell gave a small bow.  
“You return to the beginning as the shadow grows ever closer. Soon….soon.”  
Amell cocked her head while chewing her lip. The last time she had been here veil tears had appeared in the basement while the sentinels were misbehaving. The statue spoke of an encroaching shadow. She had not thought much of it at the time.  
“Do you mean the war between the mages and the Templars? Will it lead to some disaster?”  
“The Commander of the thousand Vigils will arrive as the world burns to turn the tide.”  
“I save the world?”  
“No. The world will fall but then will unfall.”  
“Your pardon, madam, but I have no idea what that means.”  
“Your love will be lost and then returned. You will witness the wardens fly again.”  
She shook her head. “I have no love, Eleni, save the wardens. I must say good bye again.”  
“The wolf awakens. Beware! The gift of the grey has betrayed you all.”  
There was an urgency to her voice that gave Amell pause. The words were likely true but she could not interpret them. The gift’s betrayal could mean the Calling. She would have to puzzle it out later. She turned and climbed the steps back out of the basement.  
She entered the mage quarters and entered the novices’ room. It was empty but no signs of a struggle here. Instead she saw the chests thrown over and disheveled linens. They were in a hurry. A pang of curiosity overcame her as walked to a bed she had known so well. She sat down and peered at the head board. Tiny nicks along the top edge. She had marked every birthday she had in the Tower on that headboard. Removing her left gauntlet, she ran her fingers over the notches.  
“Who are you?!” A male voice commanded. Amell stood quickly and walked out from between the beds to see a young Templar standing in the doorway.  
“I thought the Templars abandoned their charges. It appears I was mistaken.” She had taken a casual posture resting her hands on the hilt of her sword.  
“A warden? Come to collect mages have you.” It was more of statement then a question. His voice spoke of authority but his continence spoke uncertainty and a touch of fear. He couldn’t be more than 19 years old. She was also in full warden battle armor. An intimidating spectacle even if one was used to seeing wardens. She doubted this young man had.  
“I’m not here to collect anyone. I am the collected…or was from this place.”  
The Templar snorted and looked her up and down. “The only warden collected from here was the Hero of Ferelden. And she” he nodded towards her sword, “is a mage. And you don’t…”  
Without even moving she enveloped herself in Fade Shroud turning herself into a ghostly image. The young Templar jumped back mouth hanging open. Just as quickly, she dropped the spell.  
“I’m looking for First Enchanter Irving. Is he here?”  
“You’re…you’re her!” he took a few steps back. Amell stayed in her same position.  
“Yes, I’m Warden Commander Amell and I am looking for First Enchanter Irving. Is. He. Here?”  
“The..the First Enchanter? He’s at Andoral’s Reach with the other Firsts. He never returned after the vote for independence. Many of the other mages left for there when they heard of the vote.”  
Well, that explained the empty rooms. “And how did the Templers feel about this?”  
“The Knight Commander wanted to keep them here. It was chaos. There were uprisings and protests. Several senior mages were holed up in the tavern across the lake, but when the Templars voted for independence at the Spire, he let them go. Most of the Templars went to join the others at the Spire and a few went off to hunt mages.”  
“Yet, you are here.”  
He looked down at his feet as if ashamed of what he was about to tell her. “I… several of us did not know what to do. We had sworn to serve the Maker and protect the mages. Leaving felt … wrong.”  
“How many are here?”  
“About 15 of the young mages who had not gone through their harrowing stayed. The Loyalists tried to shuffle them off to join the other mages in Val Royeaux who remained loyal but many were afraid to leave the Tower. They have not been out since they were brought in. So, I and about 5-6 other Templars stayed. We did not want to leave them.”  
Amell sighed. The upheaval would leave many stranded who did not agree with any side. Many young mages were scared of their own abilities and felt safe in the Tower. On the flip side, some young Templars joined due to having relatives with magic and wanted to protect mages even from themselves. She has a sinking suspicion most of the remaining individuals were less than 20 years old.  
“You’ve done well, … what’s your name?”  
“Desmond, Commander.”  
“Desmond, you have upheld your duty to protect these mages and not left your post. However, with this war, I fear this place may be a target for either rebel group. If these mages are as young as you imply, they will need training. Do you know where the Vigil is?”  
“The Vigil” The young man’s eyes glittered with excitement, “Yes! I’ve studied the attack on the Keep and Amaranthine. The tactics you employed were…”  
“Yes, that Vigil.” Amell never got use to people gushing over things that she had done. They were things born out of necessity not heroics. “Have the remaining Templars and mages go there. You will be safe. Tell them you are all thinking about joining the Wardens. You won’t have to join but you’ll have soldiers who will train you and I have a senior mage there who can teach the younger ones. Bring any Tranquil with you as well. I don’t want anyone left here. Understood?”  
He seemed uncertain and excited. “Will it be safe? I mean we are supposed to keep our post.”  
“The order has been dissolved, Desmond. They recalled the Templars back to the Spire. You are one of the few who still hold to the Order’s true purpose. The best way to keep you all safe is to ensure the mages have instruction and protection. I’ll send word to my people to be ready for you. There was no fighting in this area that I’m aware of. Most of it is west of here.”  
“Will you come with us?”  
“No, but do you still have a rookery?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief tie in here with my "To Catch a Wolf" story. :D Same universe


	4. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amell visits with an old advisor and meets someone who gives her a clue on how to deal with the Calling.

“We’ll be docking soon, Warden. Just another half hour.”

“Thank you, captain.” Amell said through her cabin door. The trip from the Tower to Jader had been uneventful. She received notice through the sending crystal that the residual residents from Ferelden’s circle arrived safely at the Vigil. It was odd to know her former home sat dark and empty. It was probably the first time since its construction

Despite being a warden, Amell still had strong anti-Orlesian feelings. Clarel de Chanson had tried to contact her after assuming the Vigil. Ferelden refused entry of the Orlesian wardens citing Sophia’s uprising as cause for their mistrust. However, the main reason was the Orlesian wardens were Orlesian. She had asked Tiegan once why he was fine with her host of wardens but not any others. He had smiled and politely replied _Because the lady leading them is a remarkable Ferelden._ She enjoyed a little harmless flirting. It happened so rarely.

But now, here she was sailing the Waking Sea to the den of all that was Orlesian. She pulled out her clothes. Her typical armor, though stately, would not do here. Orlais considered her nobility because she owned the Arling of Amaranthine, and she was sort of a novelty. The Orlesians loved their novelties. She put on a tunic made of blue silk with a soft leather waistcoat in silver. The full ensemble included fine leather breaches and boots embroidered with silver scrolls and griffons; however, they were a bit ostentatious and the last thing Amell wanted was to draw attention to herself.  Her well-made leather boots and cotton breaches would suffice. Lastly, she placed a mask on her face and looked into the mirror. Her eyes peered out of two wings that swept up either side of her face. It looked like a butterfly at first glance until one realized the wings were silver feathers and at the center was an etched picture of a griffon. It was designed to look as if one were staring down on the soaring beast.

Amell had spent enough time here to be recognized, and Leliana had insisted that she should dress this way to prevent a scandal or worse be suspected of some intrigue. At least this was understated enough not to draw attention but not so vulgar to be disgraceful should someone recognize her. It was Leliana who had had the whole ensemble commissioned. It was beautiful and tasteful at least. She could not say the same about the ball gown that she had to wear several years ago.

She came on deck and asked one of the sailors to bring up her trunks and horses. Lazerus jumped behind her, happy to be on deck. The captain strode up beside her.

“I’ve arranged for a porter to take your horses and luggage to your designated hotel. Is there anything else you need?”

She sighed. “No, captain. Thank you for your concern.”  

“Well, you’ve certainly….dressed to blend in. No disrespect, Warden.”  
“None taken. You still have not told me how much I owe you for the trip?”

Before he could answer they reached the dock and the lines were being tied down. Everyone began scurrying around.

“The Hero of Ferelden does not pay for passage on my ship.” He whispered.

“Hero? I’m just a warden traveling on business.”

The captain gave a knowing smile.“I was at Lothering’s inn when Loghan’s men tried to capture you. I’ll never forget it….or you.”

He gave her a small bow and strode off towards some task. She felt embarrassed at the special treatment. As she entered the throngs of Val Royeaux with Lazerus at her heels, she remembered why she spent so much of her time in isolation.

...................................... 

She strode through the markets with her cloak pulled up over her head. Hopefully no one would recognize her as a warden in her fine clothes let alone the Hero of Ferelden. The last thing she need was word to reach Adamant that she was here. She certainly had not intended to make port in the Orlesian capital but her findings at the Tower nagged her. In a small square of a quite well to do district, Amell saw a thin man with a small blue book.

“Help me with my book, messer?” he asked without moving.

She walked up and picked up the book: ‘A New Mage’s Guide to Spells.” All mages started with this book. Casually she flipped towards the spell for friendship and handed it back to him.

“You’re a visitor as well.” She smiled. He stood and gave her a small grin as well.

“Ostwick. And on behalf of the Mage Collective may I welcome you to Val Royeaux. I believe your friends have arrived already. Shall we?” He indicated towards a small estate. Amell followed him. The Mage Collective had been operating for years independently from the Chantry and Templers. She had become a member during the Blight and continued her support. It had paid off.

They entered in a small door that led to a private courtyard. Fruit trees lined the walk to the main house. Once inside, there was a small but comfortable parlor with a large table set for tea. On the far side of the table sat a man she had not seen in a very long time.

“It is good to see you, Amell. I trust you have been well.”

Amell couldn’t suppress a large smile. Despite all the years and her abilities, something about him always made her feel reassured and safe.

“Irving, it is so good to see you again.” She strode forward as he stood up. The two clasped each other’s hands over the table. Both overjoyed to see the other. “I was so devastated over the news of Wynne.”

They sat down on either side of the table as Irving shook his head. “It was such a shame to lose her especially at such a critical time. Fortunately, her son has been most helpful.”

“Son?” Now that was a surprise. “I had no idea that Wynne had a child!”

Irving began pouring the tea. “Oh, yes. It was a scandalous secret at the time though I doubt Wynne would mind me telling you. The two did not meet until he was well grown since he was taken away at his birth. Unfortunately, not an uncommon occurrence in the Circle.”

“And one of many of the reasons we mages rebelled.” The voice was a woman’s voice with a distinctly Orlesian accent. Entering from a small door in the back of the room, a small elven woman appeared with short dark hair and enchanter’s robes. She walked with an air of confidence and approached the table. Both Amell and Irving stood greeting her.

“Amell, let me introduce you to Grand Enchanter Fiona, Leader of the Mage Rebellion.”

“And former grey warden as well though it is not common knowledge.” Fiona finished for Irving.

For the first time Amell was glad for her mask as it hid her eyebrows shooting straight to her hairline.

“A former grey warden?” She tried to keep her voice even as they all settled themselves back down. “You’ll beg my pardon, ma’am, but I don’t think that’s possible.”

Fiona laughed as if it were a good joke. “You are referencing my lack of taint.” She turned to Irving. “Wardens can frequently sense the taint in other wardens as they can in darkspawn.” Returning to Amell she continued, “I was sadly kicked out of the wardens, Commander. Despite multiple efforts to rejoin the wardens, the taint, once cured, could not be reintroduced.”

Amell sat frozen with her tea cup in her hand. Fiona acted nonchalant but Amell could tell the Grand Enchanter was watching her. She knew the affect this news would have.

“And exactly how did you lose your taint, Grand Enchanter?” She was trying to sound casual.

“Oh, that is a long story, Commander, and I’m sure you did not come all this way to hear about me.” Fiona took a long sip from her tea and conveniently did not look at her. Amell wanted to scream. The first clue to breaking the Calling and the source was being coy.

“Yes, Amell. You’ve been away from us for so long. I was surprised to get such an urgent request to meet.” Irving cocked his head at her. “I assume it has to be about the recent rebellion.”

Amell hated to change the topic but pulled her face away from the elf. “I visited the Tower, Irving. I found a handful of terrified mages and Templars huddled in its halls trying to figure out what to do. All of them were young and had no place to go. I took care of them, but I was surprised they had not been provided for.”

“They should have either gone to the loyalists here under Madame de Fer or joined us. All are welcome.” Fiona was so matter of fact as if the answer were plain as day.

“Grand Enchanter,” Amell added just enough heat to her voice to draw everyone’s undivided attention, “you assume that everyone had the courage or inclination to travel across Thedas to either location. Many had never left the Tower nor even gone through their Harrowing. Several Templars would not abandon their posts as long as there were mages that needed their care. You expected them to travel across Orlais which has been plunged into a civil war not to mention to deal with a populace uncomfortable with mages. Did you provide them money? Most had never even walked longer than an hour. How long would it take them to get to Andoral’s Reach? At least 2 weeks by foot. They had no food nor provisions not to mention a lack of defensive spells. I’m surprised more weren’t left. It makes me wonder how many other Towers have residents hiding in the shadows.”

“I doubt there are any mages left in the Tower of Kirkwall.” Fiona responded icily. “They were not afforded the option to leave. Our people have been taught to hide when we should be proud. Have you forgotten the oppression, Commander? Until now we were all hiding in the shadows in every Tower in every land.”

Amell leaned across the table eyes narrowing. “What is the point of all this, Fiona? What do you want to gain from this …revolution? A kingdom for mages like the Dales or would you have us all join Tevinter? Where do you plan to go from here?”

“We push for our rights, Commander.” Fiona’s own fire was starting to show in voice. “We want freedom not to be abused and not to be stripped from ourselves because a few Templars believe we are dangerous. We want independence!”

“Many of the injustices could have been handed through the Divine. I hear she was interested in helping. Working with the Chantry not blowing it up is how to get things done. It may have been slow but there are Templars who would have listened. But war? You have no generals nor soldiers. You have mages who have spent their lives in a gilded cage and never missed a meal or been cold. With these men and women you plan to go against armies much larger than yourselves. It’s suicide.” Amell was frustrated. The only way this rebellion would end would be with a lot of good people dead and most mages worse off than they were before. The Chantry would not allow for this to happen again.

“Our goals are to coexist with the Chantry as equals not under their thumb. We need no jailers or guardians to keep ourselves safe. We may have fewer numbers but we may be able to fight hard enough to force the Divine into negotiations. However, on one point I agree with you, Commander. We have no one with military experience or who can train our troops.” She gave Amell a knowing stare. Amell quickly cast her eyes to Irving.

“It is true that we have an uphill battle to face. A mage such as yourself with social standing and military experience would be invaluable.” Irving stared back at her.

Despite her years as a leader, a small part of her still felt like the apprentice when she was around Irving. A knee jerk response would have been to smile and happily nod to gain more approval from him. Ten years ago that would have happened but not now.

Amell slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry, Irving. I cannot join or lead the mages. There is trouble amongst the wardens and my duty is to them first and foremost.”

“There is always trouble in the wardens.” Fiona added gently. “I know more than most that constant fight the Grey Wardens are in keeping bands of Darkspawn away from the surface. You also know there is several precedents of wardens leaving their post. Ferelden’s king is one and of course Anders…”

“Anders was an abomination!” Amell snapped. “He merged with Justice and he twisted the spirit’s purpose. If I could do it over again, I would have turned him over to the Templars.”

“Feeling guilty are we.” Fiona gave a small smile as she sipped from her tea. Irving gave the elf a heated look.

“Anders was troubled long before he met you, my dear.” Irving soothed. “He frequently escaped the Tower and would likely have pursued mage independence without the spirit’s presence. You cannot take responsibility for another’s actions.”

“Though you could lead us to prevent more such fatalities.” Fiona piped in again. “Many of our members are angry. Several groups have splintered off and created havoc as a means of punishing communities who turned them into the Templars. You made being a mage somewhat fashionable, I think. Knowing you were joining us could pull them back into the fold.”

Flattery and now guilt. The Grand Enchanter was persistent. The Warden started to respond but Fiona cut her off by standing up quickly.

“Irving,” she said,”I will leave you with your former apprentice. I am sure you have much to say to one another.” Turning back to the Commander. “Think about our proposal. You could reshape the future for mages and Thedas as you did for Ferelden. You join us and I will be happy to tell you about the talking Darkspawn who wanted to taint us all.” And with that she turned and walked out. _Talking darkspawn?_ Amell knew of only one talking darkspawn and he had tried tainting other creatures. She smiled. The Grand Enchanter had inadvertently lost her bargaining chip.

“I’m sorry to be asking you this, child. You are more right than you know about our situation. Many of us may be masters of Tower politics and defeating Templars in that arena. However, too few of us have ever actually used magic in this manner. Your help would be invaluable.”

She sighed. She knew he was right. Many of the mages would be utterly lost out here but in her heart, she did not agree with the entire rebellion. Sadly, she felt she would be with the loyalists if things had been different.

“Irving, I know tempers were high after what happened at the Spire. But surely you remember Uldred and what he unleashed? Mages like him may be in the vast minority but it only takes 1or 2 to destroy hundreds of lives. There needs to be some oversight or at least partial oversight from non-mages. After all, we’ve seen what happened in Tevinter.”  


“I remember the Tower too well. I was there when it fell. However, you have been gone a long time. The leash has become tighter and tighter. Greagoir and I had a tense relationship but we did respect one another. Not all Knight Captains are as good.”

“I do remember and I never had a problem with the Templars.”

“Not all of us are lucky enough to have a madly in love Templar buffering us from the others.”

Choking on her tea, Amell coughed. “Cullen and I were not lovers.”

“Yet, you remember his name after all this time.” Irving smiled at her. Again, she was thankful for the mask. “There had been no rumors of an illicit affair. I am surprised your mind jumped to that conclusion. Were there plans of which I was unaware?”  Now he was toying with her. She gave him a tired sigh.

“Irving!”

He raised his hands in a playful defenseless manner before standing to go. “It has been good to see you, Amell. You have to do what you think is right, and from what I have seen, your judgement has served you well.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Think about our offer.”

And with that, the old enchanter turned and left.

 ........... 

It was a slow walk to the _Golden Finch_ hotel. Lazerus whined at her as he knew something was wrong. After all these years, circle politics could still pull at her and for the first time in years, she thought about a life outside of the wardens.

Upon arrival to the hotel, she verified that her supplies and horses had arrived. She took her evening dinner alone in her room as she reviewed maps until the lines blurred together. After bathing and practicing her arcane forms, Amell wearily crawled into bed. She stared at the ceiling as her mind drifted back to a memory:

 

_It was late. She was standing in front of a book stand in the rotunda at the base of the stairs to the second floor. Reviewing again how to manipulate fire into a precise cone, she was engrossed in her studies. Her exams   were coming up and she wanted to have the perfect form. Most of the other apprentices had gone to bed but the Templars had allowed students to stay up late for exam preparation. Only one other half asleep mage sitting in front a bookshelf was left in the room._

_Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck raised. That sense of danger or being watched came over her. She could hear snickering from the main library as two young Templars strolled around the corner. They seemed like wolves ready for lunch as they looked at her. Before they could take a step towards her, one elbowed the other sharply in the ribs._

_She followed his line of vision to another Templar standing at the foot of the stairs watching the room like a statue. The one rubbing his ribs nodded as the other gave a brief smile to the watchful Templar as the pair wandered back out of the room._

_Amell turned back to the stairs, Cullen gave her a small smile. She returned her own and went back to her studies as if nothing had ever happened._  

 

She frowned at the ceiling. “What ifs and what could have beens won’t serve me now.” She thought. The circle was done and she with it.

 


	5. Weisshaupt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After much delay, Amell finally reaches the Warden fortress but things are not as she thought. An old secret is brought to light and Amell finds herself in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been taking so long. Family issues took precedence. Enjoy

Amell could not be more furious. Though her jaunt to Val Royeaux had cost her a few extra days, nothing could have prepared her for the excruciatingly slow pace that followed. The trip from the Orlesian capital to the Grey Warden strong hold took a good six weeks under normal conditions. She had anticipated a somewhat slower speed given her pack horse and an inability to switch mounts. But, _this?!_

She sighed while Lazerus looked up at her optimistically. Absently, she scratched behind his ears while he leaned against her.

 

She had taken the Imperial highway as far as Ghislain and then headed due north into Nevarra. The highway should have been faster but the civil war and the mage rebellion made it a hot zone of activity. The highway ended at Andoral’s Reach where the mages had been headquartered. So naturally, it was full of rogue Templars and merchants. It had taken forever to leave Montfort. Resources were scarce as the two armies of Orlais were taking crops and most mounts. The further up the highway the thicker the fighting. Normally she would have continued on the highway towards Churneau but she feared the fighting would slow her down further, so she trekked into the uncharted fields towards the Nevarran city of Perendale. What she had not expected was the number of Clarel’s wardens beating the bushes. Clearly they were looking for someone. She wasn’t sure if it was for her or Loghain.

From Perendale she had to swing east around the Hunterhorn mountains and then it was a straight ride towards Weisshaupt, which was fortunately in the southern Anderfels.

 

Now, here she stood in sight of the fortress six months later. Six… months…later! She was seriously thinking of returning via the deep roads by way of Kal-Sharok. Fighting off darkspawn and going around cave ins would be faster than going over land.

 

As she approached the walls, the carved griffons seemed to watch her. The entire wall on this segment was engraved with the beasts glorifying their abilities. It always made her feel sad. Nothing that beautiful should be extinct.

 

As she entered the gates to the city, the sound of voices caught her attention. Yips and shouts came from the inner courtyard. Two wardens blocked her view. It was not forceful as they could sense the taint in her. One of the benefits of being a warden: You could always recognize each other.

 

“Hello, sister.” Cried an older man with silver hair. “What brings you to Weisshaupt?”

 

Amell pushed her cape back to show her rank insignia on her right shoulder. “I’m Warden Commander Amell of Ferelden.” She replied, “and I am here to speak with the First Warden about the affliction affecting us.”

 

The other warden, an elven male, and the silver haired one looked at one another in confusion.

“Beg your pardon Commander, affliction?” asked silver hair. “What do you mean?”

 

She paused. Something was unsettling. “The voice. All the wardens in the south, Ferelden and Orlais, are hearing a song or voice that many believe to be the Calling.”

 

This took both the of the men by surprise.

“Even the young ones?!” the elf asked in astonishment. His accent marked him as another Ferelden.

 

“Yes. Everyone, but I am suspicious of its etiology. I had hoped to converse with the First and discuss some theories with the Chamberlain while reviewing records in the Library.”

 

Silver hair and the Ferelden elf seemed to have a conversation with their eyes before turning back to Amell.

 

“Commander,” silver hair stated, “I’ll take you to the High Constable.”

 

He indicated that she should follow him while the Ferelden elf seemed to be studying her with curiosity as she left. As they entered the courtyard, the sight of mages practicing defensive spells started her. Older and younger mages. Human and elf. Most were engaged in mundane activities but others seemed to be studying under an older warden.

 

Silver hair followed her eyes. “They arrived a few weeks back.” He answered her unspoken question. “They did not want to join the rebellion or the loyalists. Instead they thought it better to throw their lot in with us.”

 

Amell nodded. “We’ve done the same in Ferelden. Both mages and Templars are in the Vigil though we are holding off on the Joining until after the war is over. I don’t want recruits who only came to us because they had no other option. Better to keep them safe now and they can join when they truly have a choice.”

 

Silver chuckled. “That must be nice, _Hero_.” The emphasis was more teasing then mocking. “In most places we don’t have a list of upstanding recruits beating down our door to join. Here we take what we can get and them” he nodded towards the mages “Haven’t been joined because we cannot risk losing any to the taint. We need all hands right now. The darkspawn have been … active.”

 

They had reached the main doors to the central hall. Towering three stories high, the great stone doors glimmered in the sun from naturally occurring quartz. It was said they were carved by the ancient dwarves who joined the Wardens during the first blight. A depiction of the killing of the first archdemon sprawled across the two doors. In the right lower corner of the right door was a small inset door for everyday use. It was disguised as a shield.

 

“What do you mean, active?” Amell asked.

“An increase in raids and bands wandering about.” Silver answered. “There are always darkspawn like in the Approach but they’ve been more aggressive lately.”

 

After entering the central hall, Silver took her to a small passage to the right away from the main hall and around several turns. She vaguely remembered where she was when they reached a smaller, unassuming door. Silver knocked twice.

 

“Enter.”

 

Silver led Amell into a small office lined with books. The shelves were ornately carved and the windows were stained glass with the Wardens’ crest spilling colored light across the floor. At a heavy desk near a roaring fire sat the High Constable reviewing books. He looked up and blinked twice.

 

“High Constable,” Silver started, “May I pr…”

 

“I know who she is, Trent.” The High Constable interrupted. “Every damn warden in the world better know who she is.” His coarseness caught ‘Trent’ off guard who bowed himself out.

 

The High Constable leaned back in his chair and motioned for her to sit opposite him.

“This isn’t the typical grand office of the High Constable.” Amell smiled nonchalantly at him as she seated herself.

 

He huffed. “The larger office is too cold this time of year. It’s great for making a first impression but not so great when your fingers are freezing trying to write notes.” He looked at her suspiciously. “What brings you here, Amell?”

 

Amell launched into the beginnings of the voice and how it spread, the strange note from Loghain and the situation with Clarel. He asked questions throughout and listened thoughtfully. She ended with her concerns about the darkspawn Bethany and Hawke and killed and how it had been able to control the Wardens.

 

“Do you think there are other creatures out their like that one?” She ended.

 

“Corypheus?” he muttered. “Maker, I hope not. The fact remains that this “calling” hasn’t affected any here and I’ve no reports from any wardens to the east. Now that you are this far north, do you still hear it?”

 

Amell thought for a minute. The song had lessened substantially but it was still there in the background. Like crickts at night. “Yes but fainter.”

 

He grunted. “So proximity is important.” He cursed under his breath.  

 

“Constable, if he truly was one of the ancient Magisters that stormed the Golden City, there should be more. Are there any documents discussing them in the first Blight?”

 

He frowned again thinking. “I do not think so, but I’m no scholar. You mages are better trained for that.”

 

“I saw a whole host of young mages doing menial jobs outside.” Amell smiled at him.

 

“And some Templars to boot.” He stared into the fire clearly troubled. “You believe it a single voice, then.” He seemed to half whisper to no one.

 

“I do. As does Alistair.”

 

He snorted. “A Warden King. The First would have loved that.” He thought for another minute before looking up at her. “The south cannot handle another Blight right now and the whole of Thedas is in an uproar over the mages. Everyone except Tevinter of course. We are too few to lose two whole nations of wardens to the Calling or the fellows of Corypheus.”

 

He seemed deeply troubled. Sitting behind his desk, he suddenly seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. “This may be too convenient.” He whispered more to himself than Amell. “A possible false calling and an increase in darkspawn activity. They aren’t as well formed as during a Blight but their raids have been more aggressive and their attacks are increasing in numbers.” He sat for a further moment before looking up at her.

“I’ll tell the Chamberlain to give you full run of the library. You will of course share any information with me?”

 

“Absolutely.” She started to stand up to go when the Constable caught her with his voice.

“A moment Amell” she paused in front of her seat.

 

“You do realize that though we leave the Warden Commanders alone in their autonomy there is a rank structure. This unusual happening involves both you and Clarel. She was promoted before you and you should defer to her.”

 

Amell raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“Look at me anyway you like, but I’d trust her over Loghain.”

 

“Even if Tevinter is involved? All of my messengers disappeared. Nothing has gotten through or back to me save Loghain’s note.”

 

The High Constable gave her a warning look. “Be careful Amell. The First is not pleased that you already exert more political power in the south than he does in the north. Though he gives little thought about the plight of our outposts, he will not brook anything that he sees as a possible threat to his power.”

 

That caught her off guard. She had known the wardens were not pleased with her interference in the Landsmeet, but it had been the First’s idea to put her in charge of an Arling. Though perhaps he thought she would be loyal to him instead of her people. It would explain the spying attempts.

 

“I understand Constable. Please assure the First of my continued to devotion to the Wardens and by proxy him.”

 

 

The Constable had kept her presence at the fortress a secret due to concerns she would ‘upset the general order of things.’ She assumed due to her notoriety but something was not right at the Warden Headquarters. It was well known that the First hardly spent time there spending his days currying political power in the capital of the Anderfels. The Constable had essentially been running the order, though his power limited him mainly to that of Warden Commander of the Anderfels. Over the years, communication had become less and less.

 

She spent the rest of the first day cleaning and resting from her journey. Early the following morning she spent time speaking with the Chamberlain who pointed her to a collection of dusty tomes. The section of the library where she was to work had been conveniently cleared of all librarians and servants. The small room only contained herself, Lazerus, a large fire and piles of books.

 

Most of the books appeared to be old logs of either Chantry history on the storming of the Golden City or early battles during the first Blight. The work was slow and uneventful until a week later when she found a journal kept by a Warden called Genevieve who had been Warden Commander of Orlais. It started out mundane enough but as it progressed it spoke of a venture to the Deep Roads after her brother, another Warden. The party included Duncan, Fiona and surprisingly Maric!

 

The entries suddenly stopped around the party’s entrance into the Deep Roads. On the next page, the last entry was written in a different hand. It mentioned a darkspawn who could talk. It was an emissary who wanted to bring peace between his kind and the rest of world. He attempted to taint the major cities of Thedas but was thwarted by Loghain. However, one of the warden party, a Silent Sister called Utha, joined the darkspawn to bring peace to the Deep Roads.

 

The last paragraph read:

           _I fear that Bregan has revealed the location of the Old Gods. I do not know what he plans to do with this information as he seems to want to avoid a Blight. In the meantime, Fiona will deliver her child she conceived            with Maric. Since she fears the future it will have as an elf, she prefers the child to be raised by his father. Given that I am to be the second in command in Ferelden, I will be able to watch him from a distance._

_Duncan, Constable of the Ferelden Wardens_

 

Amell’s head swam. There was so much in this final entry. Clearly the talking darkspawn was the Architect. That meant he was able to start the last Blight by learning an Old God’s location from Bregan. She shook her head. A Warden was the reason for the Blight. Had he not given the location….

She turned her gaze to the last paragraph again and read it several more times. Alistair was the bastard of Maric and _Fiona?!_ It had to be. Maric’s son would never have ascended the throne if it were widely known he was half elf. And Loghain knew…. He could have ended the Landsmeet with one line: _He’s a bastard son of an Elven Mage._ They could have argued it was an attempt to throw the vote, but it may have been enough.

 

Her feelings for Alistair were so mixed. They had become lovers during the Blight, but if she were honest with herself, it wasn’t love. Both were young, scared and dealing with an impossible situation. At the time she had been devastated when he didn’t want her anymore because of Loghain. However, the hurt passed quickly. Had his feelings for her been sincere? Had it been more than infatuation for him?

 

She sighed as she tore the last page from the book and walked over to the fire. A little voice in the back of her head told her she knew the reason she couldn’t fall in love with Alistair. Someone else was there first. A completely impossible first.

 

“My gift to you, Alistair. I’m so sorry.” She whispered as she fed the paper to the flames. With Duncan dead and Loghain and Fiona tight lipped on the subject, it was likely this was the only other evidence of Alistair’s parentage. Without it, no one would be able to challenged his reign.

 

As she stared into the fire, Lazerus jumped up with ears pointing towards the door. He began to growl softly. Amell motioned for him to hide out of sight. He could catch someone by surprise. Reaching out, she filled herself with mana and began the movements for Mind Blast.

 

The door banged open. The High Constable followed by the Ferelden elf and Silver Haired Trent in full battle armor entered the room. From behind them, several other men dressed in warden armor fanned in around her. They were not wardens as she could not sense the taint but she could sense something else…Lyrium.

 

“Templars” she whispered.

 

The High Constable was stony faced. “Warden Commander Amell, you are under arrest on suspicion of high treason to the Order.”   

 

 


	6. The First Warden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amell finds herself on the wrong end of the Wardens and an event is about to happen that will change Thedas for ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm apologizing again for the lateness of this post. Too many family health issues.

 

 

The halls were remarkably quiet as Amell walked encircled by Templars. If she let her mind wander, it reminded her of the Tower. Once a mage, always mage, it would appear. They entered the formal hall. She had not realized it was so late. Darkness seeped from the towering windows as they reached up towards the flying buttresses. Again, ornately carved pillars exhibiting dwarven craftsmanship stood rank and file down the hall. The tile floor sparkled in colors of blue and grey and so clean it reflected the banners of all the nations the Warden’s held an outpost.

 

           

At the end of the hall was a large, ornate chair. Well, there had originally been an elaborately carved wooden chair. Now a somewhat more impressive gilded throne sat on a small dais. On that throne, sat a middle aged, slightly balding man. He had an impressive height and likely had been intimidating at one point. However, years of inaction and fine dining at the halls of the Anderfel lords had changed the First Warden. He reminded Amell more of bureaucrat than a guardian against the Blight.

 

The Constable stepped forward holding a large piece of parchment in front of him.

 

“Warden Commander Amell of Ferelden, you are hereby formally charged with high…”

 

But he couldn’t finish the words before the First jumped from his throne and screamed,

“Where is he?!”

 

His sudden outburst clearly startled the Constable but only for a second. He quickly snapped back to his emotionless face as the Templars looked elsewhere.

 

When Amell didn’t answer fast enough, the First continued, “Where is he? I know you have him, Amell. I know it! What did you do to him?”

 

Amell had faced far too many nobles, darkspawn and other creatures to be intimidated. One thing she had learned was how to keep her composure in the most stressful of circumstances.

 

“Exactly whom have I supposedly taken?” She answered icily. She even managed to tilt her head in a manner so it appeared that she was looking down at him. The First noticed immediately.

 

“Don’t play coy with me, Ferelden. I’ll throw you back to the Templars where you belong.” The three wardens in the room shifted uneasily. Wardens never saw mages the way the Chantry did. Then again, perhaps the First was less warden and more politician than she thought.

 

“Sir, I mean no disrespect but I do not understand these accusations. Perhaps, you can enlighten me.” Her tone remained still.

 

The Constable cleared his voice as the First became red in the face.

 

“The First Warden is referring to Gorden Blackwall. He is the constable of the Orlesian Wardens and spends most of his time in Val Chevin. He was traveling from Montsimmard back home when he found a new recruit. He was evasive about the man’s history but felt he would be a good candidate. However, most of the darkspawn activity was taken place on the Storm Coast…”  


“The Storm Coast?” Amell jumped in though she looked and sounded relaxed. “That’s in northern Ferelden, isn’t it?”

 

Her question met with silence. The unspoken implication being that anyone of that high rank in the Wardens and so close to another stronghold would typically contact the overseeing commander. To do otherwise was somewhat unusual.

 

“It is, Commander.” The Constable answered slowly sensing a trap. “And, I am sure he would have paid his respects to you but given the circumstances…”  


“Excuse me again, Constable, but how do you know he didn’t pay his respects?” She gave the widest eyed look she could overly feigning innocence. The Constable paused and darted his eyes to the First. He was use to addressing soldiers with blunt orders not carefully fighting with words.  Silver and Ferelden were looking carefully at the First as well. They looked interested in his answer.

 

“How dare you,” the First seethed. “Are you accusing me …of spying when you keep a hidden fortress from me? When you march ahead a great force that was meant to be traveling to Adamant but instead somehow disappears? I know a great deal more than you think, Commander. I know that large funds have been going to secret projects only your Constable controls. I know your Vigil is one of the most defensible in Ferelden.” He sat down again calming himself. “You’ve built a hero’s following and keep the ear of the king. You go to parties in Val Royeaux and command a personal guard of _silverite_ knights. One would think you were building your own private army.” Jealousy was plain on his face as he glared at her. This seemed to be coming from a place deep inside of him. This was not a sudden turn of events but a long time in coming.

 

“Commander,” the Constable started again but this time more forcefully. “Warden Blackwall entered Ferelden almost 4 years ago and since then has never returned to Val Chevin. The hold received reports but they sounded distracted and did not contain his typical detail. He was asked to return but he kept explaining he had to find more recruits. Now, we receive no more letters.” He stared at her intently.

 

“I you suspect I’ve been keeping your constable.” She answered the silent question. “To what point and purpose? I have no need for an _Orlesian_ warden. I’d have nothing to gain.”

 

“He was instrumental in Orlais’ troop movement.” The First answered. “He would know every hold and how many men each one held. He would also make an excellent hostage as he was close to Clarel.”

 

The entire thing was insane. The First had been trying to gain political favor for years and make himself into a little lord over the Wardens. Either he was paranoid that someone would usurper his power or jealousy had tainted his mind. Regardless, he had inside information and a senior warden was missing.

 

“Where are your wardens, Commander?” The Constable asked firmly.

 

“Safe. I felt it best to keep them out of the way for their own protection and Ferelden’s.”

 

“Do you think I’m an idiot? Safe, from what?” The First half laughed as if he had caught her in a failed trap.

 

“The false Calling. I’m sure the Constable informed you.” The Constable started to open his mouth but the First cut him off.

 

“Interesting that no one else here seems to hear this voice.” He indicated around the room.

 

“Commander Clarel did not send any messages?” That did surprise Amell. Clarel was typically very conscientious about her work. She had actually been startled that the Constable had not been aware of the false Calling.

 

“Clarel sends many messages.” The First said in a rather bored tone. “I have many important matters to attend that prevent me from dealing with every problem the regions have. That _is_ why we have warden commanders. You don’t suspect I believe this story of yours, do you?”

 

There was no point to argue with him. He was set against her and she was not going to beg.

 

“There is a voice calling to us in the south,” she announced. “It is not the calling but is remarkably similar to the voice of an archdemon yet it summons no hordes. I fear it is a fellow of Corypheus and that puts us all in terrible danger.”

 

Her words did not seem to faze the First though Trent and Ferelden did seem uneasy. The First waved his hand stating, “Perhaps we can pressure the words from you after you rot for a bit.”

 

The Templars led her away down the stairs towards the dungeons.  

 

 

 

The dungeons were long overdue for a good cleaning. As the Templars closed the heavy metal doors, large puffs of dust erupted from the ground. Casually waving her hand, she summed a fire to start in her hand as she looked around the room. What had appeared to be blankets were actually layers of cob webs covered in dust in the corners. Even the spiders seemed to have abandoned this place. Probing the walls carefully she could feel magical barriers. The dwarves had done their work well. The cell must have been made for an emissary.

 

She sat down in the against the wall well away from the corners. She had to think. The First wasn’t very subtle and had given away more information than he realized. One, he had been spying on her. Clearly Blackwall had not checked in with her because he was told not to. He was also getting inside information. He knew about her finances and the secret projects. Mistress Woolsey was head of the coffers and would know that many was transferred to Howe. Two, a senior Warden was missing. Regardless of what the First believed, he had not been taken by her which, meant he had either gone rogue or taken by someone else. She had met Blackwall a few times in Orlais and he was steadfast to the order. He also had a good sense about people as well. It was unlikely that he had been conned by someone. However, there were reports of a “new recruit.” Why was he secretive about this individual? Most wardens had unsavory pasts. And three, Weisshaupt did not know about the situation in the south. Clarel had mentioned vaguely about a Calling so clearly she was hearing it as well. Why not notify the north? Why demand that the Wardens of Ferelden go to Adamant, a forgotten fortress. None of it made sense. Had Clarel gone rogue? Was there a fight between her and Blackwall.

 

Amell rubbed her temples. It was also clear that most of the wardens here at Weisshaupt didn’t know she was here. From her being taken quickly and quietly to the Constable to all of her moves being escorted by the wardens who had first seen her and the presence of only Templars it in the formal hall all spoke to secrecy. At first she had been okay with it as it allowed her to focus on her work. She had naively assumed that is why the Constable had arranged for her to move in the back passages. But what if the First didn’t want the other wardens to know she was here because ….

 

She shook her head. There was no way she could mount an insurgency from here. If the First felt his own men would balk at taking her prisoner then he was loosing his authority. Standing up, Amell peaked through the small window in the door. The Templars were guarding the door.

 

“Of course.” She whispered to herself. The Templers would see her as a rogue mage and have less issue guarding her especially if they were not from Ferelden. They would ignore her on principle. She has never been in trouble, however, with the Templars until that last day but she had heard stories about how they responded to mages in cells. It wasn’t pleasant.

 

At this point, all she could do was wait and see. Slowly, she began lighting the cob webs on fire and watching creepy crawlys scurry away. She smiled. Lazarus was still out there. Her men would eventually look for her and the First was clearly an idiot. He would make some clumsy move and she would have an opening. She would just have to wait.

 

Every day was the same. The Templars dropped of her food and then pick up the garbage later that day. No one spoke to her or to each other. She had heard a few whispers about a devil dog on the loose but those were few and far between.

 

Amell had stopped counting the days after the first month. She had almost hoped for some sort of torcher but the nothing was maddening. Clearly, the First wanted her to think she was unimportant. He wanted her to go stir crazy. So she worked on her forms, basic spells that the walls didn’t block and calisthenics. She had tried the sending crystal multiple times but the walls clearly blocked the messages as well.

 

She was dropping weight and smelled awful no matter her efforts. It would have been demoralizing but it did feel like being in the deep roads again. However, her patience was beginning to wear thin.

 

Sitting cross legged and trying to meditate she heard the guards leave for the change. She didn’t think much of it until she didn’t hear anyone come back to the door. Quietly and slowly she heard the key in the door slowly turn. Looking at the door, Amell used all her effort not to throw herself at it. This stint in the cell was almost enough to make her claustrophobic.

 

The door opened a bit and in popped the head of the elven warden from Ferelden. She blinked at him a few times and he seemed to stare at her for a minute.

 

“Can I help you?” She asked as she tried to casually stand up.

 

“I’m rescuing you.” He whispered. Quickly he brought in a set of warden armor filled with hay.

 

“Where are the guards?” She asked as she helped him arrange the armor.

 

“Distracted by the Constable.”

 

That caught her attention but they couldn’t wait. As soon as they arranged the armor, the elf was hurrying her out the door. She didn’t need much prompting.

 

Out the door, down another back hallway and into passage that seemed to melt into the wall. She was out of shape but freedom kept her going. Down a flight of stairs. More twists and turns and suddenly they were outside in the stables.

 

Standing in the middle was her horse freshly packed and Lazarus almost smiling up at her and quietly jumping in a little circle.   

 

She turned to her rescuer with a questioning look. He shook his head and handed her a note.

 

“No time.” He whispered. “It’s about 10 pm and most of the wardens have gone to sleep by now. Ride south … hard. There are darkspawn out but you should be able to avoid them. You should reach a small village by dawn. They’re expecting you.”

 

“Thank you, I…”  


“Go.” And with that he was gone.

 

Amell mounted and took off out the stables. She needed only a moment to orient herself by the stars and began heading south.

 

Her mind had a thousand questions and she was trying to settle herself; however, she was being overtaken with a sense of fear that she would end up back in her hell hole.

 

She rode hard as he had said. She would take breaks only to prevent the animals from falling down in exhaustion. She hadn’t been so rattled since Ostigar. Too many questions.

 

Her mind was so full of her thoughts she didn’t notice the song entering her mind again. A soft hum of a single voice weaving into her thoughts. But above the din of her thoughts and the song was another voice. Calling to her as if across the world:

 

“You are in danger.” The familiar voice called

 

“Your brothers and sisters are in danger.” She shook her head. But the voice just repeated the same two lines over and over. Dawn was starting to break and Amell could see the outline of a small village. A look out shot a fire arrow into the air. Amell hardly noticed. The voice was screaming in her head. His voice was urgent and splinting her skull.

 

“You are in danger. Your brothers and sisters are in danger. You must come to me NOW!”

 

On the NOW, Amell screamed in pain, causing her horse to rear and Lazerus to almost stumble trying to turn around. It was the Architect. He was in her head. At the same instant, the sky tore.  


	7. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amell learns of what happened at Haven and takes a trip to Orzammar.

 

Her head hurt and her mouth was dry but overall she was in one piece. Amell opened her eyes to find herself in a small room made of stone. There was a small desk with a stool and the bed she was lying in. The room was otherwise bare. It took her a minute to realize she wasn’t wearing any clothes. She looked under the blankets just to make sure before she cast her eyes around the room.

 

Nothing. No shift, no boots or...

 

Lazarus pounced on her. He had apparently been sleeping next to her bed. He immediately begun nuzzling her neck and rolling back and forth over top of her.

 

“Ok, ok, I’m glad to see you too.” She tried to sound annoyed but she really wasn’t.  Honestly, being assaulted by her watch dog was one of the best things that had happened to her in months. If she thought too hard on it she may cry.

 

A slight tap came from the door followed by a slow creak as someone peeked in. Seeing that she was awake and at least covered by a dog, an older woman entered the room. She was carrying what looked to be her warden mage clothing.

 

“Wearing fur I see.” She smiled good humoredly. “I’m Cora and it is my pleasure to host the Hero of Ferelden.”

 

Amell flopped back on her pillows and covered her eyes tightly with her palms. That stupid song was back.

 

“I think Weisshaupt would disagree.”

 

Cora made a snort of derision as she began lying out the clothes. “Hang the First Warden. He’s taking the Wardens down a path they never should be on.”

 

“So what exactly happened?” Amell asked as she rolled on her side. It was hard to look serious when you knew you weren’t wearing underwear. “I was told you were working with some individuals from Weisshaupt.”

 

Cora was now pulling out what looked like Amell’s saddle bags from under her bed.

 

“The First Warden has been less warden and more minor lord for years. He has been playing the part at the royal court seeing the wardens and their fortresses as _his_ holdings and men. As if they were loyal subject and he their ruler, he tries to play in games he shouldn’t.”

She shook her head and handed Amell her small clothes. The warden shimmied into them under the blankets while Cora continued.

 

“He has been neglecting the duties of the Wardens more and more. This land is prone to dark spawn wandering about and even killing good numbers of Wardens, like what happened at Red Bride.” Cora looked Amell squarely in the face as she was getting out of bed.

 

“We have a ruler. What we need are protectors from darkspawn and that isn’t happening. Many of the older wardens agree. The Constable is doing everything he can to hold things together but…” She handed Amell her clothes. “He comes from generations of military men. He will not directly oppose his commander unless things become dire. He essentially didn’t quell talks about helping you escape and ignored possible plots to the same end. He may not have helped but he didn’t try and stop them either. It seems the Chamberlain and Caronel were the main instigators.”

 

“Caronel?”

 

“The elf who helped you from your cell. He’s Ferelden you know. Grew up in the alienage in Denerim. Apparently, your treatment of the elves there impressed him.”

 

Amell was now slipping on her boots. Caronel the Ferelden elf, savior of the Hero of Ferelden. She shook her head. It always seemed that her deeds had rippling affects. She certainly wasn’t complaining but it was always surprising how kindness seemed to come back around.

 

“I’m surprised the Chamberlain got involved at all.” Amell answered as she reached for her belt. “He never spoke much to me during my research.”

 

“He’s been very worried about darkspawn and has concerns about another warden who was doing research about this topic at the fortress.” Cora seemed puzzled for a minute. “Apparently, the Chamberlain felt it should be taken more seriously. He was quite pleased you were looking into it. He has already set those mage recruits on researching the topic since your capture.”

 

“How do you know all this?” Amell was now dressed and felt more in charge. “Wardens are very secretive.”

 

Cora smiled. “The Chamberlain is also my cousin and talks more than he should when he has had a few glasses of wine. At any rate, he helped you get here. And seeing what happened in the south, you may be busy in Ferelden.”

 

Amell paused and looked at her. “What happened in the south?”

 

Cora looked dumbfounded for half a second. “Look out and up.”

 

Walking over to a small window, she glanced up at the sky. There in the distance to the south was a large tear in the sky. Things seemed to fall out of it.

 

“It appeared the day you arrived.” Cora had somehow snuck up behind her looking at the breach over the warden’s shoulder. “Your horse threw you when it happened though she may have been more scared of your screaming. She knocked you out for several days.”

 

She hadn’t realized she’d screamed. The Architect’s voice had been almost painful. She vaguely remembered grabbing her head before she was thrown. Turning her thoughts skyward, that thing was bad. She could feel the magic radiating from it. It was a tear in the veil for sure. The question was, what could possibly make something like that and why? Then Amell remembered the Architect’s voice in her head. ‘You are all in danger.’

 

“What do we know about it?” Amell whispered. She was scared. The Architect and this rift occurring at the same time…something beyond her was happening. Something big.

 

“It occurred in Haven. The Divine was holding peace talks between the mages and Templars and then that…” she waved at the sky, “happened. We intercepted a messenger from the south who was bringing word to the capital. He told us what little he could as he was changing horses.”

 

“What happened to the Divine and the talks?” Amell whirled around. She was getting a tight feeling in her gut.

 

“All dead save some woman who walked out of the Fade but that’s only a rumor. The Right and the Left hand of the Divine survived. They are trying to marshal their forces but it is not easy. The Chantry has no real Templar force though a few lone Templars are trying to manage.”

 

Amell let go of a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Leliana survived. She knew Leliana was frequently at the Divine’s side. Amell had watched her friend change from a wide-eyed dreamer to a severe and deadly woman. Of course, she had changed too.

 

Amell returned her eyes to the Breach. The clouds, swirling around its core, drew her attention almost hypnotically until Cora’s voice broke the trance. “There’s food down stairs if you’re hungry.”

 

 

Cora had given her enough food to last weeks. The entire town seemed to show up while she ate, making her departure slower than she would have preferred. The dissatisfaction with Weisshaupt seemed to intensify their regard for her. They were almost giddy to be helping someone escape from him.

 

She turned her horse south and walked it at a leisurely pace. Her head still hurt from getting thrown and her balance seemed a bit off. The last thing she needed was to fall again.

 

Amell had found the letter Caronel had written her which had been safely stowed in her bags. The wax seal was still intact. Swaying with her stead’s movements, she read:

 

_Warden Commander Amell,_

_Sorry for what the First did. He kept you secret as he feared the other wardens would fight him if he captured you. I think it is what he planned from the moment he heard you were there. He only told the new Templar recruits as they would see you as a mage not a hero. None were from Ferelden. Things are bad. The wardens are chafing under the First. He ignores the south and his own back yard. Something needs to be done. Everyone thinks so. You might be that something. Chamberlain will continue your research. He has mages to help. Get out of here and get your men. See if Orlais, Navarra, and the Marches will help._

_Caronel_

The hand writing was sloppy as if it had been done in a hurry but the message was clear. He was asking for a coup. Amell sighed. She agreed that the First had been negligent in his duties particularly in the south. However, her free reign had allowed her to accomplish much. She stopped her horse and looked at the sky. The Breach was green and yellow and seemed to be growing.

 

If Leliana was trying to mount a response, she may need her help. However, if the false calling put her and her fellow wardens in danger, she had to take care of them first. She sighed again.

 

“Duty over friendship.” She whispered while squeezing the horse into a trot.

 

 

“The Hero of Ferelden, Commander of the Grey and Arlessa of Amaranthine.” The titles echoed through the royal palace of Orzammar. Amell stood at the opposite end of the throne room and then made her approach towards the other end of the hall. Giving a small bow, she straightened to see the smiling blond dwarf give her a friendly nod.

 

“My friend Amell, “Bhelen smiled, “It has been too long since we’ve had the pleasure of you in our halls. A feast is already being prepared to celebrate your arrival. I’m surprised you did not send us word of your visit.”

 

Bhelen was an expert at his game. Using an informal greeting showed he was close to her and that her titles were meaningless to him. Setting up a feast showing welcome and a reproach about her secretive arrival. He would be somewhat suspicious.

 

“Your Majesty, it has indeed been too long since I’ve beheld the glory of Orzammar. I apologize for the abruptness of my arrival. The breach has thrown the surface into chaos. The wardens, sadly, are not excluded from this.”

 

“I understand.” He smiled warmly. Amell could tell he was still suspicious. He was a good ally as long as she did nothing to cross or jeopardize his power. She knew much of his secrets in helping him assume power and she was too strong and popular to kill. He would continue to play nice for now. “I hear the Breach spat out a supposed Harold of Andraste. Some Dalish woman who is trying to seal the sky.”

 

“I had heard that in my travels as well. I understand she is marked in some way but I have not been to Haven.” Okay, enough pleasantries. “I apologize, my King, that my stay will be brief. I plan to enter the Deep Roads at your pleasure. It is on warden business. Further details should be disclosed in a more intimate setting.” That should please him for now.

 

Bhelen settled back in his throne. “Of course, Warden, we can attend to business after we eat. I have prepared a room for you in my home. Orzammar welcomes you.”

 

With that, the audience was done. A servant came to Amell’s side and escorted her down a side hall to a large room. On one end was a large stone bath set into the floor. Amell found her bags and Lazarus waiting for her. They were all spread out on her bed. Lazarus tongue lolled out as he greeted her entrance.

 

“You’re comfy, I see.” She smiled at him as he stretched further out. Amell thanked the servant and stripped down into the tub. Her body tingled with relief. Her rescuers had dropped her off in the Anderfells, but weeks on the road south had also taken their toll. Darting amid small settlements and trying to avoid the mess that was Orlais had been tiring. The stability of the deep roads was almost a blessing.

 

She sighed. She had been a guest here enough to know she had about an hour before dinner. The dwarven cooks were quick. Since Bhelen came to power, Orzammar’s people had flourished and food was plentiful. Supporting Bhelen had made her skin crawl, but seeing the direction he had planned to take the dwarven people, she couldn’t help but support him. The casteless could now fight and be promised food and pay. Trade had increased bringing wealth and stability to most dwarves. Plus, the increase in the military had expanded dwarven control of the lost thaigs.

 

 _Of course, another individual is responsible for that as well_. Said a voice in the back of her head. She dove under the water as if to escape her own thoughts. The Architect. Helpful and trouble. Under the water the sound in her ears was magnified. A single voice singing out to her. It drowned out her own thoughts. Staying under as long as she could, Amell finally resurfaced. Lazarus was towering over her. Clearly, her prolonged submersion had made the hound concerned. He stared at her as if he could read her soul.

 

“I know, boy. I don’t like dealing with him either.” _I’ve traded my soul for the safety of the world. Will I be cheered or hated?_ Time would tell. She staggered out of the tub to meet a far less threatening player of her machinations.

 

 

As always, the dinner was excellent. There was an obvious lack of deshyrs but since he dissolved the Assembly, she wasn’t surprised.

 

Queen Rica and King Bhelen sat with Amell along with Vartag. Other members of different castes, particularly the warrior caste, filled the other tables. The wardens were popular in the subterranean city but Amell was especially favored. She had helped Orzammar and ended the Blight. The warriors had been impressed by her taking of the Dead Trenches and her fighting prowess impressed even the Legion. She was the only Arcane Warrior alive since the fall of Arlathan.

 

“I’ve heard many rumors from the surface.” Rica started as the dessert was being served. “I’m sorry to hear you have not been to Haven. We are all fascinated by the work being done there. I understand your former companions are helping lead the efforts against the Breach.”

 

Amell smiled. She liked Rica. She had been a commoner that had fallen in love with a King. Amazingly, he had fallen in love with her as well. She was honest where Bhelen was devious. Amell had no doubt it was his lovely wife who had been key to the ascent of her fellow commoners.

 

“I’ve heard that as well.” Amell reached for her glass. “I have the utmost confidence in Sister Leliana’s abilities. If it weren’t for the wardens, I would likely be there as well.”

 

“Oh, but I heard you knew their commander as well.” Rica continued. “I understand the former Templar, Cullen Rutherford, is at the head of Haven’s forces. He was at the Ferelden Circle when you were there, yes?”

 

The world seemed to stop for a moment and she was enveloped in a thunderous silence. Cullen was at Haven? That _was_ news. She suddenly realized everyone at the table was staring at her. Clearly she had not managed her surprise well.

 

“Yes.” She quickly brought her tea to her lips in an attempt to settle herself. “Cullen was a Templar when I was at the Circle. He was at my Harrowing actually.”

 

“That’s where mages go through their final testing?”

 

“Yes.” Amell was in control of herself again. “He was one of several Templars. He was also one of the few survivors during the Circle’s fall. I returned to the Tower after the Blight but he had been reassigned. He was not overly fond of mages when I last saw him.”

 

Rica gave an understanding look and nodded.

 

Bhelen gave a small smile. “It appears there may be more to that story. You seemed …startled at his name.”

 

 _Shit! The man notices everything._ “Yes, he was in a bad way when I left him during the Blight. Last I heard he had been moved to Kirkwall. He was somewhat intense about mages. My cousin, Bethany, had some run ins with him before she became a Warden. I’m just surprised he would follow a Dalish mage.”

 

The King seemed to accept this explanation. If he suspected anything else, he didn’t say.

 

“Well, since we are finished with the meal, should we get to business?” Bhelen stated as he stood up. He gave Rica’s hand a quick squeeze as he was trailed by Amell and Vartag to the king’s private chambers.

 

Once there, wine was laid out as well as cheeses. Amell was aware she was one of the few people allowed with the king without a full armored escort. Vartag stood by his king as the only protection.

 

“So, warden,” Bhelen indicated Amell should sit across from him. “What’s the rest of the reason you are here?”

 

Amell had already planned on what to say. In general, she had found it best to tell the truth though how much and which parts were another matter. “I fear there may be a threat to the wardens.” _Let him in on one of the important secrets. He’ll like that I’m including him on this_. “Wardens in the south are hearing the Calling all at once.” This startled both of the dwarves. Wardens were always helping in the Deep Roads. The bond between her people and Bhelen’s was strong. He would be interested in this and more likely to stay out of her way. “It does not seem to matter how long the warden has been joined. We are all hearing it and we don’t know why.”

 

“All in the south are hearing it…including you.” Bhelen’s words were measured.

 

“Yes.”

 

Vartag looked over at Bhelen. Clearly not the story they were expecting. Vartag interjected, “Are more coming to the Deep Roads? Are they getting ready to end themselves?”

 

“No, we are trying to figure out why first. I’m not going down without a fight”

 

Bhelen nodded. “I can see why you would want to keep this secret. If southern Thedas knew, it would be panicked.”

 

“Exactly, your majesty. I know I can count on your discretion. The state of the surface cannot handle further catastrophe. It is why I did not mention it in the throne room. The wardens are pulling into their keeps and are rightfully worried.”

 

“So, what brings you here then?” Bhelen was not suspicious but curious now. She had given him enough to chew on.

“Years ago, I went to Cadash Thaig. As you know it was built on top of Cad’halash Thaig which was destroyed by Kal Sharok for holding the last elves of Arlathan. During my short trip, there were many elvan artifacts still present. I plan to go there and look for artifacts that might help me end the Calling for all Wardens.”

 

Bhelen sat back and raised his eye brows. “That _is_ a big task. Why not bring more of your wardens here?”

 

“I was in the area when the Breach occurred. Given the number of demons and rebel bands of Templars and mages, it would have taken too long to get back to the Vigil. Plus, I do have one warden meeting me in the Deep Roads. I plan to meet her tomorrow.”

 

“You may take any of my soldiers, warden. What affects the wardens affects us.”

 

 _Not a chance._ “That’s very kind but I will move faster with one companion. We will likely try to avoid darkspawn instead of engaging. I do not know how long we have. I plan to get in and out as quickly as possible. Pending what I find, I may need to take advantage of the shaperate.”

 

He nodded. He was clearly curious but he had worked with Amell and the wardens enough to know they were secretive. Plus, she had given him a gold nugget of information. He would feel he was on the inside of warden business. No need to mention the possible coup, internal strife, or that the calling was likely false and due to something else.

 

“Out of curiosity, how have the darkspawn movements been since the Breach? Any change?”

 

Vartag stepped in. “Quiet, actually. They’ve been generally less hostile over the last 10 years but recently they seem to be withdrawing. The Legion is trying to make gains while it can.”

 

“In any event, you should have little trouble getting to Cadash.” Bhelen stated. “I’ll have my kitchen pack you some rations. We will look forward to your return. Now, I’m sure you would like to retire before your trip tomorrow.”

 

She thanked Bhelen and left. She was sure the two were immediately discussing the situation. Bhelen was shrewd and would look for any advantage. She wasn’t worried about him interfering or turning on her. Again, they had worked together long enough that there was respect on both sides. She just didn’t trust him implicitly.

 

Lazarus was lying on top of her bags when she entered. No one rifling through her things while she was gone. She began to shed her clothes and get ready for bed. Seeing her change, the Mabari jumped onto the bed and made himself comfortable.

 

So, Cullen had survived the attack that started the rebellion. She hadn’t realized she had been worried about it until she knew he was safe. A small part of her breathed a sigh of relief. Haven wasn’t that far…

 

She climbed into bed. Lazarus had taken up most of the space leaving her a small strip on the edge. She clung to her pillow.

 

Unbidden, memories filled her head overriding the song.

 

_And to think I once thought we were too hard on you_

_His hatred of mages is so intense…_

_I hope your compassion hasn’t doomed us all_

_My shame…my sin…a mage, of all THINGS_

 

They always bubbled up if she was in the vicinity of Cullen. Whenever she thought about stopping through Kirkwall, they surfaced. Part of her wanted to apologize. She had gone to Red Cliff first instead of the Circle. Had she gone there first… He had been her guardian and if she was truthful his feelings had been mutual. His words had cut a wound that had poorly healed. If he had hated what she was then, what would he think of what she had become now?

 

“Am I a thing?” she whispered to the darkness.

 

Only Lazarus’ snores answered her.


	8. The Deep Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amell and Sigrun enter the Deep Roads to find a darkspawn ally and uncover his long held secret

The Deep Roads

 

For some unknown reason, Lazarus seemed to love the Deep Roads. Considering that he was almost poisoned by darkspawn blood, one would think he would avoid them at all costs. Amell carried a pack on her shoulders. Riding horses was not a good option in the deep. There were to many tight spaces and crumbling road ways. She and Lazarus were better on foot.

 

As she headed towards the entrance a small, armored dwarf was seen leaning against the stone. Face tattooed and rumpled hair, she didn’t look like a member of the Legion of the Dead.

 

“Good morning, Sigrun. It’s nice to see you again.” Amell smiled at the dwarf.

 

“Good morning, Commander. I found some of the documents you wanted. It took months to get the Shaper’s approval.” Sigrun’s annoyance was false. The two got along splendidly.

 

“I know and I’m sorry, Sigrun. However, given your status as a member of the Legion and as a Grey Warden, the Shaper will grant you access to tomes that he won’t to the rest of us.” Amell gave a small shrug of her shoulders.

 

“And now, Commander? What’s this emergency mission we’re going on?”

 

“I’ll tell you once we are in the passages. There are far too many eyes and ears here. Thankfully, no one knows the roads as well as you.”

 

Sigrun gave a playful eye roll and a little smile. The two wardens and the dog entered the Deep Roads.

 

 

 

“They’ve been following us for two days at least, Commander.” Sigrun said as she casually stoked the fire.  “Are we going to do anything about them?”

 

Amell scratched Lazarus’ ear. “We can’t openly attack them. If none returned, Bhelen will be suspicious.”

 

“I thought he liked you? Besides, this is Warden business.”

 

“He does like me but he’s not above spying on us either.” Amell sighed and stretched out on her bed roll. “There’s been enough _Warden business_ in this part of the Roads that he’s curious. I don’t think they mean us any harm. They’re just gathering information.”

 

“You’d think he’d be happy with all the Wardens coming and going. The Deep Roads haven’t seen this much peace since before the Blights.”

“Some people always want more, Sigrun.”

 

 

Bhelen’s men continued to shadow the small party as they continued towards Cadash. They were good and likely former Carta members. Bhelen may have smashed the underbelly of Dust Town when he took the throne but he quickly hired many of the talented members. A small army loyal only to Bhelen and his money.

 

Sigrun had several maneuvers up her sleeve to try and throw them off of their trail but the spies were always able to catch up.

 

Amell’s patience was beginning to wear thin as they neared the thieg. She didn’t mind them following at first as she thought they would have turned around by now. Once it was confirmed they were going to Cadash, she thought Bhelen would have been happy. He had been told the truth about their destination. Plus, Cadash had a bad reputation for dwarves never returning in this part of the roads. It wouldn’t have been surprising had the men turned around by now. Bhelen was clearly paying them well.

 

They were a few miles from Cadash when Amell halted the group. Darkspawn were close by and Sigrun was beginning to itch for a fight. The last thing Amell needed to deal with was Bhelen’s goons getting in the way.

 

Amell threw her pack on the ground and turned around. The spies were just out of sight but no more than a few yards away.

 

“Alright, enough is enough.” Amell called to the darkness. “We know you have been following us since Orzammar. Bhelen is aware of our mission but this is Warden business. I cannot vouch for your safety especially with Darkspawn approaching.”

 

The silence after she finished was palpable. She suspected they were giving hand gestures to communicate with one another. After what seemed like an eternity, the men began to appear behind the bend of the cave. There were only four. Small enough to be silent but large enough to cause problems.

 

One came forward as the leader. All had tattoos of the casteless and markings of different Carta organizations. Amell’s hunch had been correct. Members of the warrior class would have let their presence be known as it would have been a mark of dishonor to spy on an ally.

 

“King Bhelen sends you greetings, Grey Wardens. He sent us to aid you should the darkspawn force be too great for you.”  


“How thoughtful of his majesty. However, our research is our own. I am happy to discuss with the King what I can upon my return to the city.”

The four had spread out in front of her and Sigrun. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought they were trying to flank her. However, that would be foolish.

 

“I’m sorry, Commander. But, I’m afraid we must in…”

 

Amell felt the magic burst before she saw it. She instantly threw up a barrier that enveloped the wardens. The blast knocked the dwarves back. Another spell flew around, Amell’s barrier and settled on the fallen dwarves.

 

The wardens whirled around to see who was approaching. The darkspawn taint had been growing steadily over the last few minutes but Amell had not expected an attack.

 

Approaching from the other end of the road were three figures: a Hurlock, a dwarf and a very tall emissary. The emissary was none other than the Architect.

 

Amell lowered the barrier but Sigrun did not lower her knives. The dwarf hated all darkspawn even those that called themselves allies.

 

“Commander Amell,” it said in a slithering whisper, “welcome back to Cadash. It is a pleasure as always.”

 

“I wasn’t expecting you to approach with the dwarves here. Are they dead?” Amell wasn’t pleased and both her tone and expression showed it. The darkspawn stopped his approach with a look that may have been surprise or chagrin.

 

“They sleep, Commander, nothing more. However, they will sleep until I release them.”

 

Sigrun said something under her breath but sheathed her daggers. Amell placed a hand on Sigrun’s shoulder. Bringing the dwarf had been a risk, but she was the closet Warden to Orzammar that she trusted. She wasn’t going to go down alone this time.

 

“I’m here because of your … message.” She said hesitantly. It wouldn’t be good to let Sigrun know the Architect had spoken to her mind.

 

“Yes, Commander. You all are in grave danger. “

 

He turned around expecting for the wardens to follow. Sigrun and Amell shot glances at each other before proceeding. The blighted dwarf darted on the Architect’s heels. As they rounded the bend, Amell saw several darkspawn along with some of the Architect’s blighted creatures standing guard. They were likely scouts protecting the edge of their territory. Despite knowing they were cognizant and were allies, Amell still felt her skin crawl. To be around so much taint was unsettling.

 

They continued to walk until they came out above Cadash. Sigrun gasped at the sight. Amell half smiled to herself. She vaguely remembered coming here with Shale and again looking for Morrigan. It has been a ruin at that time but since then the Architect and his followers had moved into city. Expanding below them was a bustling city of sentient darkspawn. As they walked down the path towards the landing that held the monument to those who had been made gollems, Amell could make out blacksmiths, leather works and bakers. On the edges, darkspawn were raising deep stalkers and nugs. Amell thought she noted some artwork along one cavern wall. Whenever she questioned her decisions, this scene seemed to reassure her. These were no longer mindless monsters but a new people finding themselves.

 

“Commander,” whispered Sigrun, “there are so many of them.” Her eyes darted around. “How are they reproducing? Have they woken another brood mother?”  Sigrun was deeply scared by her tone. The number of aware darkspawn scared her instead of inspired. She was fidgeting with the handles of her blades.  

 

“I don’t know much about darkspawn reproduction.” Amell whispered back. “I don’t think they have mates or children as we know them. I think these are all converted darkspawn that were already born.”

 

The arrived at landing. The golem monument was still intact. It actually looked as if it had been cleaned. Next to it was a much smaller plaque with what looked like names scratched into the surface. Amell couldn’t make them out and leaned closer.

 

“Those of us that have fallen.” She heard the dry voice behind her. Clearly the Architect had noticed her curiosity.

 

“Fallen…how?” Amell asked as she continued to stare at the names.

 

“My followers try to reach out to the others. Those that are still in darkness. They are scared of us and will sometimes attack. Like the dwarves, we too are fighting the Blight.”

 

Sigrun snarled. “You are nothing like us! You and your kind are a plague to the world and a corruption of the Stone. You are the Blight!”

 

The Architect seemed unphased by this but the blighted dwarf seemed angry. She began wildly gesturing at Sigrun.

 

“Calm, Utha, she does not understand.” He placed a reassuring hand on the dwarf’s shoulder.

 

“Doesn’t understand?! What am I supposed to understand? Last I remember you caused the last Blight. Your followers invading the Vigil. You caused the Mother to attack. How are you anything but a monster?”

 

“I am truly sorry for the pain I have caused the people of Thedas. I cannot undo what has been done but I want a peace between my people and yours. I too want Orzammar to thrive. If things continue the say they have, the dwarves may be wiped out from the Deep Roads.”

 

“King Bhelen has made a great push in to the Deep Roads. We’ve retaken theigs…”  


“Thanks to us and your Commander.”

 

This seemed to cause Sigrun to go off guard. Her eyes widened as she turned to the Amell who was standing under the watchful gaze of the stone dwarf behind her.

 

“You?” She whispered.

 

“Yes.” Amell stood up straight. “The Architect has been supplying us with information on darkspawn movements. It has allowed us to move safely and cut off darkspawn reinforcements. What Bhelen doesn’t realize, is that each of his great battles into new theigs were actually won because the Architect’s men were fighting the same darkspawn as well. The Architect’s forces would attack the darkspawn until they were so wounded they would retreat to their theigs. Upon arrival, the dwarves would attack and finish the job. They’ve been working with Orzammar for years via the wardens.”

 

“THIS is why you’ve been coming down here so often? To work with … that!” She pointed her hand at the Architect.

 

“Sigrun, Orzammar was under constant attack before the last Blight.” Amell responded. “Many in the Legion and the warrior caste were worried Orzammar would fall within the next ten years if things continued. But now, thanks to our joint efforts, Orzammar is not only flourishing, the dwarven empire is expanding. Your people are safer than they’ve been in generations.”

 

Utha was nodding vigorously. Amell had learned she had been a prior warden and silent sister. She had been working tirelessly to find powerful emissaries and darkspawn to shift them into awakened creatures. Every time she turned someone, she felt it was one less blade against Orzammar. Amell did not agree with her blind trust in the Architect but she did have a respect for the dwarf.

 

Sigrun just shook her head. “How could you work with the Blight, Amell? How could you? They are now smart enough to develop better strategies against us and out maneuver us and …”

 

“They are also smart enough to make peace treaties with. To honor territorial borders. To trade with. They no longer blindly attack anything that moves. They now also fear death as we do. We can work with them to save Orzammar and the world.”

 

Sigrun stared at Amell with hurt in her eyes. It felt like a dagger as in her stomach and twisting. She knew Sigrun felt she had betrayed her. It would take time but eventually Sigrun would see how this was helping her people. At least, Amell hoped that would happen.

 

Amell looked back at the Architect who seemed to be watching the two wardens.

 

“We are no longer slaves to the Blight.” The Architect seemed to say to himself as much as the wardens. “We will no longer serve it.”

 

With that, he continued to walk down the next path towards the main part of the city. He had a large meeting hall there. Once inside the hall, he motioned for the wardens to sit. Unlike the typical darkspawn dwelling covered in filth and fleshy sacks of Maker only knows what, the hall was clean and filled with light. The ancient dwarven architecture was dotted with elven artifacts found in the foundations of the city. A distant music that sounded like chimes could be heard in the distance.

 

“I take it you are hearing the song.” The Architect started while Utha seemed to be making tea. Sigrun looked elsewhere but Amell nodded.

 

“Yes, it started over a year ago. I fear many of my comrades fear it is the Calling but it sounds much more like an archdemon. They aren’t hearing it up north.”

 

Architect nodded. “You are astute, Commander. It is not the Calling but something far worse than an Archdemon.”

 

Sigrun seemed to half turn her face towards him. She was interested at least.

 

“What could be worse than an Archdemon?” Amell was a little surprised. She had assumed she was hearing the proceedings of another Blight. A small part of her had wondered if the Architect had been up to something again.

 

“It is the Conductor of Silence.”

 

Amell and Sigrun just stared blankly at him.  The Architect shook his head.

 

“I’ve lost much. Years searching through mad dreams and fragmented memories. But his song is heard by all tainted creatures. Instead of drawing the darkspawn to him, it frightens them and they flee. We hear it like you do but can ignore it as well if we choose. With the song my mind was cleared for the first time in centuries. I am the Architect of the Works of Beauty, High Priest of Urthemiel and Magister of the Imperium.” He stopped and looked at Amell and Sigrun’s confused faces before he sighed. He suddenly seemed to be taken by a tremendous grief as he hung is head and whispered, “I am one of the seven that breached the Golden City.”


	9. A History Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amell learns the truth about the Architect and finds that a cure for the taint may be possible

Sigrund seemed confused but Amell jumped back and instinctively drew in mana as she reached for her sword.

“You mean the ones responsible for the Blights?” Sigrund asked. She had only recently begun to learn about the Chantry and its faith. Bethany had been trying to teach her.

“Impossible!” Amell hissed. “You should all be dead. You brought about the taint…the Blight…EVERYTHING!” What would have happened if there hadn’t been any Blights? No dreams or voices or feeling of something rotting deep inside her. She could’ve stayed in the Tower and maybe had a life. A life with …

The Architect bowed his head as he seemed to let her voice roll over him. “There is nothing you could say to me, Warden, that I have not already said to myself.”

“Shit, I don’t care.” It finally seemed to be sinking into Sigrund what this creature was saying. “My people are on the verge of extinction because of you! Whole thaigs were lost. There were cities with families and children. We were down to one until the Warden and Bhelen began pushing forward. Do you have any idea what the dwarves could be if it weren’t for the Blight? We’ve lost so much.” Tears were streaming down her face.

The Architect turned away from them. Was he ashamed? Embarrassed? It was hard to tell.

“We were power mad.” He whispered. “The Conductor came to me and told me that Dumat had called for us to open the gates to the Black City. We were to be gods. I prayed to Urthemiel who said the same: ‘Open the gates.’ It took all of us. The Watchman, the Forgewright, the Appraiser, the Augur and the Madman. But, when we arrived the city was … abandoned.”

“Abandoned? What do you mean?” Amell’s voice was heated. She hadn’t let go of her sword while Sigrund stared daggers at his back.

“The City was locked but the doors were able to be opened. Backend and burned, the halls were empty. Remnants of bodies strewn everywhere. The Overlord watched the City not to protect it but protect the world from it.”

“You mean…the Maker watches the city?”  
“No, it was a guardian or spirit or something else. It could control the doors and the lights in the city. We eventually made our way to the heart. At its highest point was a chair overseeing a grand court yard. The seat was empty. Beyond it, doors were sealed. A voice spoke a language we did not understand. Coming from all over. It seemed to try to keep us from the sealed rooms. The Conductor thought it was to a secret power. We broke in.”

“Then what?”

“Darkness.”

“Wait, what?!” Amell almost yelled again. “What do you mean ‘darkness?’”

“I cannot remember. Shards of memories showed unusual items and things I do not understand. I can tell you this, the taint and its corruption were from there. We contracted it like a disease and it followed us. The Conductor took some things from the City. He seemed to think it could help the taint should it need to be reversed.”

“Why would he want the taint?”“The Conductor thought the taint was the power that would give us god-hood. He spent time locked in a room with the voice. It was called a Node. What the Overlord told him, I do not know. But, I fear he wants what Dumat could not give him: Godhood. If the taint or the power can be reversed, it would strip him of his power.”

“Why haven’t you done this before?!”

“Until the Conductor called, I did not know who I was. When I heard him, I knew what he would try to do. The one thing I also know, a rare memory, he can influence those who are tainted.”“Meaning the Wardens could be in trouble.” Amell pressed her lips together. She wondered if Corypheus was a former magister as well. Fortunately, Hawke had killed him. Her wardens were safe. She would have to get word to Alistair somehow and make sure he was safe as well. Perhaps telling Teagan would be more discrete.

“Go to the ruined estate of the Amladaris family east of the Shrine of Dumat.” He handed Amell a rolled up piece of paper.

Amell looked at the paper. It was a series of maps. Glancing upwards, The Architect seemed almost remorseful. She didn’t want to be around him any longer than she had to. She nodded at him and then turned and left.

____________________________________________________________________

Sigrund and Amell didn’t speak until they were back to the unconscious dwarves. A few awakened dark spawn stood guard over them. The nodded at the wardens and then turned away back towards Cadash.

“I told you trusting a darkspawn was a bad idea.” Sigrund whispered as she looked back down the tunnel.

“Not a dark spawn, Sigrund, but an ancient Tevinter Magister who brought the Blight. I’m not sure which is worse.” She felt sick. She had trusted him and made deals with him. True he didn’t know himself what he was and seemed remorseful about his role but still.

Amell investigated the sleeping dwarves before unraveling the spell that the Architect had placed on them.

“Sigrund, can you escort our friends here back to Orzammar?”

“And what am I suppose to say to Bhelen? Sorry your men fell asleep and missed all the action.”

“The truth: a dark spawn emissary cast a spell and we took care of it. But more importantly, I need you to get to Alistair and tell him what we just learned. Having a king under your thrall would be very handy. Make sure his aid, Teagan Guerrin, is present just encase he has already been influenced.”

“Can’t you send a message to Bethany and have her do it?”

“There’s a spy at the Vigil. I can’t risk anyone knowing about this save wardens. It could lead to a witch hunt. Tell Alistair to take you to the Solider’s Peak. He’ll know what that means. En route, bring Bethany. Tell her she has to go on a mission and all of you go to the Peak and stay there. Nathaniel needs to know as well.”

“And the Vigil?”

“Captain Garevel has command until I return. I”m going to this estate.”

______________________________________________________________________

Amell and Lazarus hurried through the tunnels. She hated to admit it but she was faster without Sigrund. Dwarves frequently weren’t fast. It still took her two days. When she arrived at Orzammar, she was relieved to find it was night and most of the inhabitants were asleep. The guards watching the entrance asked her about Sigrund before waving her through.

As she trotted down the Hall of Heroes, she noted the sentries at the main gates were talking fervently. She slowed as she approached. A groom who was eavesdropping saw her and ran to get her horse and extra bags.

“It most have happened a week ago before it reached here.” One whispered

“A surfacer saw the avalanche from a distance. He was supposed to be delivering goods there but fortunately was delayed.” Another said.

The first dwarf shook his head. “By the stone, those chantry folks have had one bad turn after another.”

“What bad turn?” Amell asked. She had gleaned enough to realize they were talking about the group at Haven.

“The Inquisition was attacked.”

“The Inquisition?”

“You probably didn’t hear, Warden.” The second dwarf answered. “I understand you came from the north and haven’t spent much time south recently. The group that gathered at Haven after the explosion formed themselves into an Inquisition.”

“Set to remake the Chantry.” The first dwarf answered.

“I bet Val Royeaux loves this.” Amell rolled her eyes. The Chantry had never been open to criticism. “Well, if it’s the Inquisition, who is the Inquisitor?”

“Haven’t heard of one.” The first dwarf said thoughtfully.

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” the second dwarf interrupted, “it’s finished.”  
“Wait, what?” Now they had her attention. Her brow furrowed intently. “What do you mean finished?”

“Well,” the first dwarf started, “apparently the Inquisition had the rogue mages join them to fix the hole in the sky. This caused a group of Templars to attack Haven and completely bury it.”

“The Templars attacked the Inquisition. Was that ordered by the Chantry?” This made no sense.

“I don’t know about that, Warden. I do know they were led by a very powerful mage.”

She could almost feel her eyes going crossed trying to follow this. Templars opening attacking a city was one thing if the Chantry thought they were heretics, but under the command of a powerful mage? Why would they follow a mage? Why would they turn against the right and left hand of the Divine?

“How many survived?” She wondered out loud.

The dwarves shrugged. “News is spotty.” The second dwarf answered. “I hear they survived and another they were all killed. Still other reports say that the Herald died and others that she lived.”

By this time her horse and bags and been brought to the front gates. She said her good byes and left a formal message for Bhelen. She was exhausted but didn’t want to stay in Orzammar. It would take her days to leave if she waited as Bhelen would find reasons to keep her and try to wiggle out why she went to the Deep Roads. Sigrund on the other hand was destined for a few days of endless questions and lavish meals.

Amell smiled to herself. She’d have to buy the dwarf a few drinks.

 

____________________________________________________________________________

She didn’t have the time to do this. She should be heading towards Orlais again. With the civil war and reports of Red Templars, the journey was going to take long enough. However, she had to look at least.

There was an old road up to Haven. It has been hidden and she had used it when she left the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It was small but she knew where it was.

Lazarus threw himself into the snow banks where the town should have been. Rubble peaked out of the snow. This had been such a creepy little village when she arrived. Unexplained blood stains and dead bodies. It had become such a shrine after Genitiv told everyone about it. Fortunately the dragon had hidden the actual temple.

The Chantry was still mostly standing. She walked in and for a moment she was 10 years in the past. A male priest and sharp eyed parishioners coming at her. Alistair protected her right flank while Leliana and her arrows rained over her head.

“Can I help you?” A voice came from behind her.

She turned to see a few laymen with tools looking at her suspiciously. The blazoned griffons were under her cloak giving her a nondescript appearance.

“I was coming to see the Inquisition. I see I’m too late.”

The man who had spoken rushed forward and grabbed her hand. He looked at her with amazement in her eyes. “No miss, you are not too late. The Inquisitor lives!”

“I thought there was no Inquisitor.”  
He smiled a glorious smile as he recounted their escape to Skyhold. He ended with the naming of Lavellan as the Inquisitor.

“So all the leadership survived such as the right and left hand, the herald and the commander.”

“Oh, yes ma’am. Inquisitor Lavellan asked us to set up a memorial here. Seeker Cassandra is on a mission with the Inquisitor while the Nightingale and the commander keep control of things at the fortress.”

“Thank you, sir.” Amell smiled. “I’ll make my way to Skyhold.”

She made her way back out of the Chantry and looked at the sun. Again, a pull to go to Skyhold and help Leliana and see Cullen again came over her. She wasn’t sure which pull was stronger.

“It’s always damn duty first.” She would head to Orlais.

____________________________________________________________________________

“She wants me to do what?” Alistair gasped. “Ride off and play warden again?”

“That’s what she said.” Sigrund chirped a little too happily.

“Come now, Alistair,” Teagan interrupted, “I would’ve thought running from Denerim would be exactly what you wanted.” He gave his nephew a small smile.

“That was then but now,” Alistair just shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “After everything I’ve been through here and with the Qunari and my father…I’ve resigned myself to it.”   
“It’s up to you Alistair.” Teagan put a comforting hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I’m happy to double check your decisions and arrange for a few loyal soldiers to keep an eye on you. However, if Amell thinks that you and all of us could be in danger, it may be worth going to this Peak. You’ve already dealt with the mages and Anora and I can keep an eye on things here.”

“Fine.” He sighed heavily.

“Great,” Sigrund smiled. “Especially since I don’t know where the Peak is. She said you would show me.”

Alastair shot an ugly look towards Teagan was trying to cover his smile. “Fine! I know the Peak. It will take a few days for me to take care of things here.”

“We also have to stop by the Vigil and recruit Bethany.”

“FINE!” With that, Sigrund scooted out the door back towards her room.

He turned towards Teagan who seemed amused by the whole thing. “It never even occurred to her that I would say ‘No.’ She always seems to finagle people to do what she wants.”

“She has a talent. It doesn’t help that her decisions make good sense. This one also makes sense.”

“You know, that’s why she requested you be here.” Alistair flopped down in a chair. “She knew you would back her up.”

“I believe I gave you the choice, your Highness.”

“I know…I just…” He stared out the window. “Why did she think saving Loghain was a good idea?”

“Are you made at her or at yourself?”

Alistair didn’t answer. Teagan stood up and walked over to his nephew. “She’s a remarkable woman. Anyways, I doubt she has Loghain in a comfortable position.”  
______________________________________________________________________

 

A horse and rider came galloping up to the front gates of the Vigil. On of the knights dressed in silverite approached.

“Can we help you, sir?” the knight asked.

The rider was cloaked keeping his face hidden and his voice was soft but hard at the same time.

“I’m looking for Warden Amell.”

“The _Warden-Commander_ is gone with her Wardens to Orlais.” The knight answered.   
The eyes peering out of the cloak bore holes into the knight. “I have been between here and Orlais for almost a year and have heard of no Warden troop movements.”

The knight didn’t flinch. “The Warden-Commander is gone to Orlais with her wardens.” He clearly wasn’t going to give anything else.

The hooded man smiled. She did inspire loyalty. He had expected as much and this knight just proved him right. He reached into his bags and pulled out a rolled piece of parchment.

“Tell her that the man she gave this too will be in Crestwood. If she is able, she should join me. I”m meeting some contacts. This should go no further than the two of us and the _Warden-Commander_.”

The knight gave a curt nod and placed the parchment under his cloak.

“You’re not going to look at it?”

“It belongs to the Warden-Commander.”

“To ease your mind, solider, it’s a map of the Anderfels.”

With that, he turned and road away.


	10. Amladaris Estate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More pieces of a strange puzzle are revealed directing Amell westward

Heading west was becoming more and more difficult. The actors in the Orlesian civil war were aggressive. On top of it all there were deserters turned bandits, who didn’t care if you were a Grey Warden or an innocent. Everyone was a target. Some templar and mage factions were about but most of the Templars had retreated to somewhere and the mages had joined the Inquisition. The thing that scared her the most was the number of Tevinters she was seeing. They were keeping out of the way but she saw traces and had run into a few. The closer she got to her destination the more Vints she saw.

 

Again, almost 2 months to discretely make her way a distance that should have taken less than half that time. Now that she was off the main roads, there were fewer people, save the Vints, but the terrain was rough. If memory served her, a shrine of Dumat was nearby. From what she could gather, the Amladaris family were devotees of Dumat, which explained the Conductor’s interest in having a family home in the vicinity. Sometimes it was amazing to think how far the Imperium stretched. At one point this area was considered deep inside the empire.

 

Sitting in a small copse with a glowing fire, Amell silently reviewed her notes. Bethany still contacted her occasionally with update via her sending crystal. Bethany, along with Alastair in toe, had made it to the Peak. Bethany was very upset about not knowing the Peak existed sooner. Alastair wasn’t happy about being dragged back to the Peak and Sigrun was making noises about the Deep Roads. No one was ever happy. Nathaniel did mention that the Inquisition had taken Crestwood. Apparently, a rift caused undead to threaten the city. More interestingly, Amell’s spies had seen signs of Loghain with the Inquisition. Amell shook her head. Had he known about the Peak, he could have made it there safely. At least he wasn’t capture by Clarel’s people.

 

Amell toyed with the idea of discreetly investigating Adamant. It was southwest from her current location and no easy distance. Parts were moving all around her and she was too deep in the shadows to poke her head up and follow the threads. The false Calling and the betrayal of Weisshaupt were enough to keep her busy. She looked back at her maps. Val Chavin had been on her way. She had inquired about the missing warden, Blackwall, whom she had met a few times. He was truly dedicated to the cause and was one of the few who chose the wardens. She regarded him highly. However, her inquires led her to the same place as Weisshaupt: Left to recruit, reported finding a recruit and then silence. A few letters here and there but not his normal communication pattern. Writing and verbiage were a different style. She could see why the First Warden thought he was captured. Again, why suspect herself? What would she gain? Who would gain from his capture or death? A more interesting question involved who the recruit was and if this individual was involved in Blackwall’s disappearance.  

Too many questions and too few answers. She rubbed her eyes and laid down. Tomorrow she would be nearing the ruins of the old estate. Then the interesting work would begin.

She quickly fell asleep and slipped right into the Fade. It looked like the ruins in the Brecilian Forest. She stood in one of the large chambers looking at the well holding an elven urn. She remembered doing this before and completing the ritual. However, the Calling’s voice swelled deafening her. Reflexively she clasped her hands over her ears and fell to the ground. The urn crashed to the floor fracturing into hundreds of shards. A feeling of disapproval came over here from the very stones. Whispers in elvish joined in with the Calling merging into a loud cacophony. She couldn't think or move due to the sound then she realized the Calling had also turned into a form of elvish and ….something else. Her elvish was poor but one word could be understood: Mythal. She couldn’t concentrate beyond that. She suddenly had an urge to open her eyes. When she did she saw a figure walking towards her. A woman in armor and her hair twisted into horns. For a second she didn’t recognize the form but as the woman got close the face….

“Flemeth?” She whispered. Not the bent over disheveled woman from the woods but a strong robust woman old and young at the same time.

“It seems we meet again after all, Warden.” Flemeth’s confident voice cut through the din, “You are getting close to something that is best left alone.”

 

Amell woke in a sweat. The Calling was still there but muffled. What was happening? Why was Flemeth talking to her?

Amell rubbed her eyes. Dawn was peaking through the trees and Lazarus was already stirring. The last time she had seen the old woman was when she made a deal with her to give Morrigan her grimoire. Amell doubted Morrigan’s claims about her mother. Plus, how could she turn on the woman that saved her life?

Standing up, Amell began preparing a simple breakfast. Once finished she headed to the ruins of the estate.

She reached the location on the map by midday. The stones of the estate still stood tough the roof had collapsed. Amell could feel the presence of spirits pushing against the Veil. It was very thin here. There was also the presence of a wards. They were old but holding.

The documents with the map the Architect had given her included how to get around the wards. The only problem is that it required blood magic. She took a deep breath and pulled out a dagger. Quickly she sliced her hand and as the blood began to drip she performed the spell. Shimmering light covered her and Lazarus. She hobbled her horse and then went into towards the ruins with the mubari. As she passed what had been the entrance to the courtyard she felt something hum around her followed by a pressure closing in on her. Suddenly from inside her own head came an answering hum and the pressure faded. She breathed a sigh. The spell had worked.

Inside the walls and narrow windows stretched skyward creating a dazzling tall hall. The trappings and furniture were intact. Clearly no looters had been here. Most of the damage was from the collapsed roof, which looked to be due to the elements from beyond the wards. The sense of magic grew stronger as she walked further inward. The caster had clearly focused more on preserving the items in the house than the outside walls and other buildings. Her foot steps were muted on the dusty and faded carpets that lay thick upon the floors. The hall widened into a large receiving room with low tables and sofas with pillows. The ancient Tevinters would lounge while being waited on by servants. Beyond she could see an outside courtyard with another set of tables under a canopy for outside dining. On either side, doors led to adjacent rooms. The Conductor of Silence would have likely lived here with extended family when not on duty at the shrine further west.

She began systematically going through each room. Mostly bed rooms with clothes, paintings and various personal items. She found a library with dusty and rotting tomes and a wash room with still running water and large copper basins. This estate certainly had been grand. The furthest room on the right was the last checked. It was clearly an office with a large desk inlaid with colorful tiles and several seats. The magic seemed to be concentrated here. Whoever cast the wards and done so from this room. Around the peripheral there was random items that Amell took to be for arcane purposes. Shifting threw everything took hours. She had preferred not to sleep in this location but the sun was starting to set. She was also hesitant to perform any magic here. She’d hate to trigger something. She sat down in the chair and tried to imagine what the person sitting here would do. What would be in quick reach should it be needed that only the sitter would see? Looking up and down she finally saw that one of the tiles on the desk had a mark. She fingered it and the tile seemed to give way. It was a tiny drawer. Inside was a small key. The handle had a carved dragon on it. Was it Dumat?

It was getting dark and Lazerus began whining at her. She would have to figure out this key later. As she walked back towards the door she saw something she hadn’t noticed coming in. Sitting right next to the main entrance along the wall was a waist high pedestal. On it sat a dragon identically to the key and in front of it looked to be a kneeler like they had in front of Andraste in the Chantry. A personal shrine? She walked forward and knelt on the kneeler. She felt a little queasy kneeling before an Old God. She couldn’t see anything. She began feeling around and found a small key hole at the base of the pedestal. To anyone watching it would look like she was kowtowing to the shrine. The cleverness of the mechanism made Amell smile. The key fit and she heard the lock clink. Suddenly her hand holding the key went numb. The numbness began spreading painfully up the arm. The lock had been warded in such a way a mage wouldn’t sense it. With her left hand she grasped the top of the pedestal to brace herself. She couldn’t let go of the key. Worse she could see her fingers were turning grey. They were turning into stone. She quickly opened herself up to the Fade allowing her to have a foot in both worlds. There was an element of elvish to this spell. She could feel the pattern of magic being twisted to create the metamorphosis. She closed her eyes and began untangling the web. The spell was complicated and it tried to work around her will. Slowly, the web began to untangle and the feeling returned to her arm and then her hand and then her fingers. She let go of the key and collapsed on the floor. The Fade left her and she found herself sweating.

She felt a wet nose push against her face. Lazerus had a very worried face looking at her. She smiled at her old friend and scratched his ears. Her hand hurt but it was whole again. Looking around she realized it was night. The stars above showed it was very late. It had been dusk when she unlocked the pedestal. How long had she fought the spell? Hours?

Looking back at the pedestal she saw a small door had opened up at the base. Gingerly she pulled a package out. It was too dark to give it a good look. She threw it in her bag and walked into the courtyard. Outside she quickly dove behind a tall planter. Beyond the ward she saw two figures standing by her horse. They were whispering to one another. She signaled to Lazerus who seemed to nod. She broke left as he broke right. Fortunately, the courtyard was surrounded by a wall that was still high enough to hide them if they stayed low and out of direct line of sight from the entrance. Lazerus and she edged their way around the perimeter on either side. As she got closer, she could hear them speak.

“I thought the Elder One said no one could go in there?” Said the first speaker.

“Don’t question the Elder One or you’ll end up like that last lot.” The other speaker spat. They were both male. The first had a Ferelden accent and the other had one marking him from the Free Marches. Amell made a small gesture and the Mabari held his place. She wanted to listen.

“Well, where’s the rider then? The horse’s hobbled meaning it was left here on purpose.” The first speaker grumbled. “No one is supposed to be out here but us. Those Venatori said they cleared this area of people.”

“Well, the Vints were clearly wrong. What do you expect from those mage-run idiots?” There was a sneer in the second man’s voice. “Well, let’s go take a look. The Elder One warded us to go in.”

By this time, Amell and Lazerus flanked either side of the entrance. With luck they would walk by them towards the house and they could sneak out without them being the wiser. If they went missing, this Elder One may come looking. Best to be cautious and kill only if necessary.

She heard the scrapping of flint and the flash of light. Torches. Pressing into the wall, Amell watched as the two men walked by. They didn’t see her in her grey armor in the shadows. The light ruined their night vision … and her’s. However, the wavering light showed the symbol pressed in their armor: A burning sword. Templars. She was glad for the wards. It would mask her magic given all the magic there was here. Templars were frequently sensitive to it. Templars working with mages from Tevinter. Now she had seen everything. As the Templars walked inside, she and Lazerus scooted around the entrance.

The Templars had laid a few snares around her horse but Lazerus sniffed them out. She quickly un-hobbled her horse and quietly led it away. After enough of a distance she mounted and began at a trot. She thought for a moment of letting her horse go to draw of her pursuers should they try to track her. The terrain was bad and the further west she went would become deadly. She needed a horse. If she road all night she would be able to put some distance between…

Why didn’t the templars have horses? She puzzled it. It can only mean they didn’t need them, but there was nothing close by except the shrine and temple to Dumat. Was the Conductor there? She shook her head. She would be making a detour.

 

It took her all night to circle around and come in from the west but she had made it right around dawn. She had given a wide birth to the temple. She was glad she had. Sitting in a tree at a distance, Amell used a spy glass to look towards the temple. With Templars present, she would use magic as little as possible. She had also shimmied out of her armor to allow her to climb better. Hopefully no one noticed a mage in her under clothes in a tree. She saw templars and other soldiers she suspected were the Venatori. Their armor was clearly Tevinter in style. She also noted mages coming and going. Again, in Tevinter robes. She saw the two from the estate returning on the road. They seemed edgy. If they were looking for what she had, she didn’t blame them. In the light, she noted something she hadn’t last night. They seemed to have a red tinge to their skin. Red crystals peaking through the armor. It reminded her of the crystals on Shale.

As she watched she saw a mage exit the temple walls heading towards them. He was followed by … two grey wardens with demons in tow. Amell sucked in her breath. Why were the wardens here? They weren’t moving right either. They were both mages by their dress and staffs. Something was very wrong. These had to be Clarel’s wardens. Suddenly Loghain’s warning came to her. The Tevinter mage! Had Clarel's been duped or was she a traitor? Templars, wardens and Tevinters. How do these players come together and how do they involve the false Calling? Could the Conductor be in essence conducting them? With that name, perhaps he had mind control abilities or blood magic.

She had seen enough to make her worried. Climbing down, she began to make a plan of action. She quickly dressed and road west at a leisurely pace. As she rode, she opened her pack to look at what she had taken from the estate. The light was strong enough that she could now get a good look. Inside a black piece of silk was a box. It was about the width and depth of her hand. A simple latch though she probed it for magical triggers. After finding none, she opened it up. A feeling of sickness came over her. Lazarus growled and her horse reared slightly. Settling the horse, she focused on the feeling. It was the taint. The item in the box was exuding the taint and it seemed to be causing the corruption in her to stir. The voice of the Calling exploded with it. Mixed elvish and another language became clear. The elvish was trying to overpower the other language. She could make out the names of the old gods in the elvish but the other made no sense. Looking in the box, she saw a strange, mechanical looking object and a folded piece of paper. She pulled the paper out and closed the box. The sick feeling left immediately.

Unfolding the paper, she saw another map. The terrain was different but the mountains and rivers were the same. This was clearly made before the Blights. A location was marked far to the west. West again. It would put her in then northern regions of the Western Approach.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------

She didn’t sleep for two days but rode towards the west. There were a few small settlements scattered that way. She wanted to put distance between her and the temple. She finally arrived in a small mining village. Again, she placed her cloak over her armor before entering. The trip would be long and she would need provisions. Her horse would need a rest for a few days as well. She took a room in the only inn and collapsed into bed.

Again, the Fade came quickly. This time she was back in the Amladaris estate. She saw people strangely dressed bloody and screaming. They were fighting something back and passing something away from the fight. A darkness trying to get through the door. Each person would hand the item to the next and run to fight the darkness before being enveloped. Finally, the last one reached her and handed her the item. It was the box. She opened it. The strange sick feeling came over her again. A blood curdling scream broke her gaze. The estate swirled around a woman who seemed to materialize from no where. She was dressed strangely with shackles around her neck and wrists with broken chains. But her face …. She rushed towards Amell.

“Close the box!!! For the love of God, CLOSE IT!”

 

Amell woke up again in a sweat. It was morning. Again, dreams she didn’t understand and those people. They were human but something about their appearance and build. They were different. What land did they come from? And the woman. Amell was pretty sure that she was either a spirit or mage who was not part of the dream. The dream had disintegrated around her. Why was this box causing such a reaction? The item was Blighted but it wouldn’t be the first. But, the woman’s face. It had a vallaslin that appeared to be shimmering.

Too many pieces. Amell stared at the ceiling. Strange people getting engulfed by darkness. A dumat temple with mages, wardens and Templars. A box with an item exuding Blight. Lastly, walking ancient magisters turned darkspawn while a never ending song sang in her head.

Amell squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears with he hands. Lazarus whined at her but she didn’t move. She felt so alone. She wished Wynne was here or Morrigan. Even Avernus would have been a relief. Someone to discuss all these puzzles. Taking deep breaths, she pushed back the feeling of being overwhelmed.

_One step at a time, Amell. Break down the pieces and work through it._

She sighed. Cullen had told her that. She had been frustrated by a spell and threw a book across the room. It almost hit the young Templar as he came into the room.

“Okay,” she whispered, “start with the simplest thing first.”

__--------------------------------------------- 

Amell ordered a bath and then dressed. Coming down stairs to order breakfast she noted a small figure in the corner standing upon her arrival. Amell watched the dwarf approach her. She wore a hood and a tunic revealing an eye with a sword through it.

“The Nightengale sends you greetings, Warden Commander Amell.” She whispered. “I come with a message from the Inquisition.”

“How did you find me?”Amell’s eyes narrowed. Leliana was good but she couldn’t be that good.

“The Nightengale doesn’t share her secrets with me, Commander.” The dwarf handed her a scroll.

Unraveling it, Amell read through the message. It was clearly Leliana’s hand. She began reading about the breach, the Dalish Inquistor and finding Loghain. It asked if she knew anything about Corypheus. Apparently some type of darkspawn.

Amell frowned. She knew from Bethany he had been killed and could influency wardens. Whatever he had been he was gone and it wasn’t one of the names given to her by the Architect. He couldn’t be a magister as she had thought but a powerful emissary at most. Despite her senior rank, there was so much she didn’t about wardens and darkspawn. She debated writing about her own findings but if the courier was caught it would be disastrous. Keep it short. In the end, she didn’t know the name. She quickly jotted down her answer and added something she thought may be helpful for a Dalish mage. She handed the letter back to the courier.

“Send my regards to Mistress Leliana as well as to your Inquisitor.”

The courier bowed and started to back away.

“Also, my regards to your Commander. He is well?”

The courier paused but her face remained a mask. “He is well, Warden Commander.”

“Good. Safe travels.”

With that the courier left and Amell turned her thoughts westward.


End file.
